Shadows of Angmar
by Mike Taurguss
Summary: Xena/LOTR crossover! Strange painful dreams begin to plague Gabrielle. What could they mean? Are they memories, or nightmares? Then, an unearthly storm wisks them away, depositing them in a world they could never have imagined...
1. Chapter 1

**The Shadows of Angmar**

"The wise general always places his assets in the most strategically adventagious positions, on order to maximize their effectiveness against the enemy…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

**Chapter 1**

_The robed priest extended a small wooden box towards Gabrielle._

"_And for you," he continued. "Inside is something that you may find useful, someday."_

"_What is it?" Gabrielle asked, looking again at Xena for any understanding._

"_Something that should only be used in your most desperate hour," the man answered cryptically. "Do not open this unless you have the utmost need. Can you accept that responsibility and truly honor it?"_

Gabrielle sat upright with a start and a soft cry, the image of the strange priests' eyes still visible before her, like some sort of phantom.

Instantly, the figure next to her leapt up, a sword rang in the shadows of the dying campfire. Xena looked about quickly. Then her body relaxed and she looked back down at her friend.

"Another dream?" she asked, one dark eyebrow rising in annoyance.

Gabrielle nodded. "Sorry. I tried not to scream."

Xena sheathed her weapon and settled back down across the fire from the young bard. Her blue eyes studied Gabrielle closely.

Gabrielle was covered in a sheen of perspiration. Her normally golden hair was darkened by sweat and her breath was still coming a little quicker than it should.

"Want to talk about it?" Xena offered after a moment. She wanted to be angry at losing another full night's sleep, but seeing Gabrielle so disheveled and obviously frightened quashed that feeling instantly.

"It's like the other ones," Gabrielle replied. "Except this time, it had to do with something that was real." She reached into her bag and drew out the mysterious little box she had received in Cyerna, nearly a year prior.

"I saw that stranger, the one who returned your chakram to you?"

"Brother Mavon," Xena nodded.

"Yeah, him," Gabrielle nodded. "That was the last thing I saw before I woke up this time. I saw him giving me this."

Xena placed a couple more logs on the fire, and the flames leapt up hungrily. The scent of pine and a wave of warmth flooded over the tiny clearing.

Gabrielle took a drink from her water bottle and sighed, collecting her thoughts as she tried to place the images of her dreams in some kind of coherent order. Her fingers absently turned the box end over end as she thought. From within, something small rattled against the sides.

"A part of me really wants to know what is in here," she mused. "And another part of me is afraid that one day, we might have to find out."

Xena smiled. "Well, in the mean time, just remember what happened to Pandora when she got too curious."

Gabrielle smiled and placed the box back in her bag. Then she resumed staring at the dancing flames.

Xena watched Gabrielle's thoughtful expression and smiled softly. She could tell that something grand and intricate was coalescing.

"Alright," Gabrielle said slowly. "I remember a lot more detail this time, I think."

Xena nodded. "Go on."

Gabrielle folded her legs under her and held her hands up, as if gesticulating would assist in the formation of her words.

"Alright," Gabrielle said again. "I remember – I remember a shape. Like a shadow, it was of a man, I think he is, or was, a warrior, but the clothing he wore was really strange."

She blinked suddenly, as if someone had poked her.

"Strange how?" Xena asked.

"He didn't wear armor," Gabrielle explained. "He was dressed all in cloth, no leather, except, I don't know, maybe a dark vest. But his other clothes were colored like the leaves and branches in the trees, I think. And he wore a strange, cloth hat."

Xena stifled a smile. She knew these images were important, and she could tell by the feeling of angst emanating from her friend that Gabrielle believed it. Xena could see the frustration building. It seemed that the effort of remembering was actually causing the young bard physical discomfort.

"Calm down," she said softly. "You'll make it harder to remember if you get all worked up. Just let it come back to you slowly."

Gabrielle nodded and took a deep breath.

"Close your eyes," Xena suggested.

Gabrielle complied. She let out one last deep sigh of exasperation and then relaxed.

"Good," Xena said. "Now, tell me the first thing you see or hear. Even if it doesn't make sense."

"Okay," Gabrielle replied. She took a few more breaths and a gentle frown creased her forehead. She cocked her head to the side a bit, as if trying to hear an elusive sound.

"Do you hear a noise?" Xena prompted gently.

"Not noise," Gabrielle replied in a distant voice. "Not noise so much as music. Deep, rhythmic booming. It feels like it's inside me it's so loud. Fills the entire place."

"You're in a room?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle nodded.

"Can you describe it?" Xena went on. In spite of herself, she was getting rather taken in by the images Gabrielle was recalling.

"It's dark," Gabrielle said. She winced suddenly. "Blue lights flashing, and red beams of light moving all over the place….I see faces." Her expression tightened further, as if she were trying to push something free. "Faces in the shadows, but I don't know any of them." Her wince became more defined, as if she were fending off something uncomfortable. "I'm looking around, but I don't…I can't." She groaned suddenly as if the strain of the memory caused her pain. "It's a tavern, I think…but not any tavern I've ever seen before…Gods, this hurts…"

"Let it go," Xena said quickly. "Just let it go then."

"But there's something," Gabrielle replied stubbornly. "It's on the edge of my mind, I know it! I know this place!"

"Gabrielle," Xena said evenly. "Let it go. Go to something else."

Gabrielle opened her eyes suddenly and looked down at the dirt before her. She took a stick and began moving it through the loose earth.

"Something about…Gizmo," she said, almost in a whisper. "And a mother hen?" She looked up at Xena with an almost desperate expression. "I know this all makes sense somehow! I know it!"

She looked back down at the image she had scratched into the earth and her frown deepened. "And so does this…I think."

Xena stood and stepped around the fire to look at the symbol in the dirt. A simple figure eight pattern.

"That's the symbol for infinity," she explained. "Which is about how long it's taking you to go through all this?"

"Ha ha," Gabrielle retorted. Then she looked back down at the symbol.

Xena cocked her head to the side. "Or it could be the number eight." She offered.

"_Copy, bay eight in nine hours,"_ The deep, distinctly familiar male voice suddenly reverberated through her mind, as if it had charged through some invisible barrier in her brain.

Instantly, Gabrielle's hands clapped on either side of her head and she cried out.

"Gods!" She rasped. "I can hear them! I can hear voices bouncing around in my head!"  
"Gabrielle!" Xena knelt before her.

Gabrielle reached out and grasped Xena's shoulder, trying to steady herself as she fought through the sudden burning in her mind and tried to relate the words she was hearing. She gritted her teeth and a growl issued from her throat.

Xena ignored the vise like biting of her friends nails in her shoulder. Gabrielle's face was contorted in agony.

"Just stop!" she pleaded. "Gabrielle, just let it go!"

Gabrielle's breathing came in fast gasps as the pain built in her skull like a pressure threatening to explode. At the same time, Gabrielle began rocking back and forth. Her lips moved automatically, and in a tight, agonizing voice that almost sounded like someone else speaking, she conveyed the words echoing in her mind.

"_Tantarus Control, this is Phoenix Fire, on approach to bay eight. Please confirm?"_

"_Phoenix Fire, you are confirmed for bay eight. Approach vector six, switch to control beacon five, five."_

"_Confirmed, beacon five, five. Phoenix out."_

"_Coming in, bay depressurizing." _

"_When we leave here, stay at my side, no matter what, okay?"_

"_Gabrielle! Let's go!"_

"_Gizmo! You broke it! You fix it! I want my ship ready to go in eight hours! You check everything, double check it, and then do it all again, you got that? Eight hours! Or I take it out of your ass!"_

With a final cry, Gabrielle fell sideways into Xena's arms, tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes opened, bleary from the pain ricocheting in her mind.

"It hurts," she gasped. "Gods, that hurts! I get close to it, like there's a wall in my head, and things are trying to break out!"

"Take it easy," Xena said gently. She stroked Gabrielle's hair and rocked her gently back and forth. "Just let it go."

"I can't let this go!" Gabrielle protested weakly. "This is important!"

"Give it a rest for now," Xena countered.

Gabrielle gave one more groan of protest and then felt the fire in her mind cool as she let the images vanish into the ether.

"Eyes," She whispered suddenly.

"Hm?" Xena looked down at her.

Gabrielle slowly sat back up. She reached into her traveling bag and removed her quill, ink, and parchment.

"The last thing I saw were eyes," she said. "Deep green but not mine! I think I saw someone's face!"

Xena was beginning to get concerned at the level of obsession Gabrielle seemed to be expressing. Yes, Gabrielle could be stubborn, but nothing like the driven anxiety she was seeing now. Her actions were almost manic. "Gabrielle, just let it go, will you?"

Gabrielle had the inkwell open and her quill was moving with manic speed across the parchment. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she were searching inward. It was as if she were unaware that her body was performing other actions. She drew at a frenzied pace, dipped the quill into the ink and resumed like someone possessed.

"Green eyes," Gabrielle was mumbling to herself. "Dark, like forest leaves, and hair…curly hair...long past the shoulder, and deep red, almost brown…it was like she was staring past me, or into me…into my mind…"

"Gabrielle, stop this!" Xena all but demanded. "Really! You're starting to frighten me!"

"If I look through her eyes…" Gabrielle continued in a whisper. "It doesn't hurt so much."

She reached over to confiscate the quill and parchment, but Gabrielle jerked the implements away with a determined hiss.

Xena pulled her hand back and sat down nearby. If this strange compulsion continued for much longer, she was debating whether or not to exploit a couple of pressure points and send the suddenly obsessive bard into a pressure point induced state of dreamless sleep.

"She was smaller than me," Gabrielle went on. It was obvious that she was wrestling within against some force that she couldn't identify. A determined growl escaped her lips as she fought through the agony to find the images she was seeking. "Yes! She was a she…quirky, outspoken, almost too friendly…and something about a drink she gave me…"

At that statement, Xena perked up. She began going through all the places they had visited recently, trying to remember if there were any female inn keepers that had served them in the past few days or weeks. She listed the places in her mind, and quickly dismissed them all. There had been no female innkeepers. There had been a couple of servers, but they hadn't seemed threatening, and besides, those places had been in villages or cities where they were either liked, or completely unknown. And in the final analysis, none of those servers had red hair, or had green eyes, for that matter.

The quill dipped again and continued tracing over the page, but the movements were much slower now, more deliberate.

When the quill came to a final stop, Gabrielle froze for a moment, as if transfixed at what she was seeing. It was as if she were beholding the image she had created for the first time.

"The naked fox danced across the glass of water," she whispered quietly.

"The…what?" Xena asked, now completely at the end of her patience. "What in Tartarus does that nonsense mean?"

Gabrielle turned the parchment around and showed it to her friend.

It was an incredibly detailed and lifelike image of a young girl or woman, with thick curly hair and delicate features. Her large, inquisitive eyes seemed to stare out of the parchment, like an apparition from their past, though Xena could never remember meeting her.

"We know this person," Gabrielle said with a certainty so calm, so cold, that Xena felt a shiver run up her spine.

"I don't know this girl," Xena replied. "I've never seen her before in my life." Even as she said the words, something in the back of her mind told her she was wrong.

"Xena," Gabrielle replied in that same, icy calm. "We know her. I'm positive."

Then she visibly relaxed, and turned the image back to her, frowning curiously. "Besides," she continued. "When have you ever seen me draw like this?"

She passed the parchment to Xena and sat back.

"I'd say," Xena perused the portrait a moment. "Never."

"Exactly," Gabrielle pointed a finger at her. "Stick figures and smiley faces, that's about all I can do, and still, I draw that in, what, twenty minutes?"

"Try five," Xena replied, studying the image closely. "I have to admit, there is something about this person that seems familiar."

Gabrielle blinked in surprise. "Five?"

"Uh huh," Xena said, passing the image back to her. "And you blurted something about naked foxes and water."

"I did?" Gabrielle replied uneasily.

"You don't remember saying that?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. "What did I say?"

Xena thought for a moment. "The naked fox danced across the glass of water. You don't remember saying that?"

Gabrielle frowned. "Stop that."

"That was what you said," Xena said evenly.

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Gabrielle protested. Then she sat back and thought for a moment. "Or it does, and we just don't know what it means."

"How can that mean anything?' Xena asked. "It's just gibberish."

Gabrielle pondered for a moment and then she jotted the words down on the parchment, beneath the picture.

"It could be some kind of code," she offered. "A hidden message."

"How could that be a message?" Xena challenged. "The words mean nothing."

"Maybe not," Gabriele admitted. "But the letters could be rearranged. It could be a completely different phrase or word."

Xena raised her eyebrows at that. She hadn't considered that possibility.

"Okay, genius," she offered. "Every code has a pattern. Since this is something that you obviously heard somewhere, perhaps you know the pattern to break it as well?"

Gabrielle looked down at the words again. Then she pulled a fresh piece of parchment out of her bag and copied the phrase down a second time.

In spite of the alarm that Gabrielle's outburst had caused, Xena smiled as she watched her young friend ponder the phrase, here and there jotting down characters in an attempt to form new phrases.

If there was one thing that Gabrielle couldn't refuse, it was a mystery. Puzzles and challenges were the things that fed her insatiable curiosity.

She let Gabrielle work on it in vain for a long time before she finally let out a sigh.

"It's gibberish, Gabrielle." She finally said. "It doesn't mean anything."

"It has to!" Gabrielle protested.

"We need to get some rest," Xena finally said in a tone that was almost motherly. She reached over and snatched the parchment from Gabrielle.

"Xena!" The young bard protested.

"Whatever it is," Xena offered. "You don't have to solve it tonight. We have a long road tomorrow. Get some sleep."

"Just let me work on it for five more minutes," Gabrielle offered.

Xena smiled. "Nice try. Sleep!"

With that, she rolled over, effectively turning her back on Gabrielle.

"Xena!" Gabrielle protested. "This could be important! This could be something big!"

"Only if I'm a naked fox," Xena replied.

Gabrielle fixed her with an icy look and then angrily crawled back under her own blankets.

"And she wonders why I don't like talking about these things in the first place," she complained just loudly enough for Xena to hear.

She spread out her blanket and crawled in, curling up comfortably. As sleep slowly came over her, her eyes glazed slightly.

"If I could enter it into the computer and run a decryption sequence," she said automatically. "We'd have it cracked in a few seconds."

With that, she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

When day broke, Gabrielle and Xena rose and resumed their travels. They had no particular destination in mind, just the usual meanderings that fate dictated.

Ordinarily, Gabrielle would be pressing to begin some sort of conversation or debate regarding subjects that ranged from the mundane to complex.

This morning, however, Xena noted the icy chill that her usually talkative companion was silently radiating.

She bore the frost for a couple of hours, to her credit, before she finally stopped in the middle of the path.

Gabrielle paid no mind to her halt and continued forward. Xena planted her hands on her hips and sighed.

"Fine," she said. "I'm sorry, okay?"

Gabrielle halted, but did not turn to face her friend.

"I'm sorry I didn't take you more seriously last night," Xena relented. "You might be right. Those images and that girl you drew could be important."

"They are important!" Gabrielle turned back and looked at Xena intently.

"Fine, fine," Xena held up her hands in surrender. "They are important. I just don't see how? And that strange phrase you quoted when you finished that drawing. I have no idea what that means?"

"I don't either," Gabrielle replied. The frost vanished, replaced by her usual, excited curiosity. "It's a mystery that we need to figure out."

"A riddle involving mother hens, a naked fox, water, and a number eight?" Xena ticked off the few facts that came to her mind. "A part of me doesn't want to know how all those tie in together."

"Xena," Gabrielle sighed. "Haven't you ever had that feeling, deep down in your gut that tells you that you're on to something?"

"It's called hunger," Xena smiled.

"Don't start," Gabrielle shot back. "You were doing real well for a moment."

"Sorry," Xena smiled. "Couldn't resist. Besides, it is about time for lunch anyway."

They found a sheltered spot in a grassy glade near a clear pond. The scent of wildflowers filled the air and the sunlight rippled golden yellow in the water.

The two decided a swim was in order, and they each disrobed and dove into the cool water.

Gabrielle floated lazily on the water, her eyes fixed on the deep expanse of blue sky above her.

Suddenly she was splashed from the side.

"Hey!" she protested.

Xena laughed. "You were getting that look again. I had to stop it."

Gabrielle sent a small fountain of water back at her best friend.

"I was thinking!" she complained.

"That's what I meant," Xena teased. Then she looked at her hands. "Okay, I'm pruning. Time to get out."

A short time later, they sat next to the edge of the water, munching on a meager meal of dried fruits and bread.

Again, Gabrielle had that introspective look on her face.

Xena smiled. "Alright. You may as well share."

Gabrielle blinked. "Hm? Sorry, I was just thinking."

"I know," Xena nodded. "Share?"

"Oh, just working through something that's been bugging me for a while." Gabrielle replied.

"That whole, naked dancing fox thing?" Xena rolled a hand forward.

Gabrielle shook her head.

"Cyerna," She replied.

Xena winced. "Why are you thinking about that place? It was a disaster."

Gabrielle nodded. "Something about that whole thing has bothered me ever since we left there."

"Gabrielle," Xena said evenly. "That was almost two years ago. Are you telling me that you've been thinking about that place for the last two years?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "Off and on. But that dream last night got me thinking about it again."

Xena shrugged, "Brother Mavon?"

"Xena," Gabrielle said evenly. "Have you ever considered what happened before we got to Cyerna?"

"Not really," Xena shook her head. "We went there to help the people out, but someone beat us to it and dropped my name to avoid the credit. That's all."

"Really?" Gabrielle's sly smile began to slink across her lips. "That's all?"

"I hadn't really thought much about it," Xena replied a little tersely.

"Then consider this," Gabrielle said. She began ticking points off on her fingers.

"First, we get there and the whole army of Alsydius is wiped out, but there aren't any bodies of the army that fought them. Second, someone or something totally destroyed that castle. You remember the small lake where the castle used to stand, right?"

"I remember."

"Third," Gabrielle continued. "Some time that previous night, someone sneaks in and steals your chakram, but leaves everything else behind, why? And lastly, there's me."

"You?" Xena replied. "What about you?"

"Think about it, Xena," Gabrielle leaned forward. "What kind of shape was I in when we left Thessalonia?"

"You were on your feet," Xena replied. "You weren't a hundred percent, but you were healing."

Gabrielle arched an eyebrow. "Healing? How did I look the night before, compared to when we woke up the next morning?"

Xena thought back, remembering that fateful night, when the traveling from Thessalonia to Cyerna had finally sapped the last of the injured bard's strength.

Xena stopped chewing her food as the images came back to her. Gabrielle had been pale and weak, almost delirious. She had been breathing in shallow rasps, almost like death rattles. She couldn't deny it. Her best friend had been on deaths door that evening. Then suddenly, the next morning, she had awakened refreshed and completely healed, as if nothing had happened.

She looked up at Gabrielle in astonishment.

The young bard's smile grew and she began to nod. "You see?"

"Okay," Xena shrugged. "So one of the gods intervened. It isn't like they've never done that to us before."

Gabrielle was shaking her head before Xena finished the rebuttal.

"I checked," she said. "The last time we ran into Aphrodite, I asked her. No one came to our rescue from Olympus, or anywhere else as far as she knew. I'll tell you something else too. We weren't asleep for just one night either."

"Really?" Xena arched an eyebrow. "And how long were we asleep, then?"

She raised her cup to her lips and drank.

"Three and a half days," Gabrielle replied simply.

Xena choked in mid gulp. The rejected liquid burst from her mouth in a surprised fount.

"What?" she coughed.

Gabrielle only smiled and nodded. "I date all my scrolls when I start them. It kind of helps me keep track of the time we spend together. I started a new one the day we left Cyerna. I wrote the date out on the top, like I always do, but later, I discovered that it was three days behind. Cyerna is the only place that I could have lost count of the days."

"Okay," Xena sighed. "Say I believe this wild idea. Who would do it and why?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "I don't know. But I'm willing to bet that my dreams have something to do with it."

"The whole naked fox and water thing again?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle nodded. "I just need to figure out how it all ties in together."

"If you can tie a naked fox, a glass of water, a mother hen, and a strangely dressed warrior in a cloth cap into a three day gap in our history," Xena said with a wry grin. "Then I'll be dropping you off at the first sanitarium we can find."

"Ha ha," Gabrielle replied.

"Okay," Xena relented. "Then tie it all together for me."

"I can't," Gabrielle admitted. "Not yet." She finished quickly. She removed the cryptic parchment from her bag and studied it again.

"But tonight, maybe I'll get another clue."

"When you sleep," Xena said.

"Exactly," Gabrielle replied.

They finished their meal and resumed their march. The conversation of the afternoon was dominated by the various brainstorms that Gabrielle would occasionally offer up as partial or complete explanations of the mysterious events two years past.

Where Xena would rather have let the whole issue rest, Gabrielle seemed unwilling or unable to do so.

"What if we were kidnapped?" she offered at one point. "Kidnapped by demons and taken to the underworld, or drugged and forced to commit some horrible crime?"

Xena sighed.

"Kidnapped? Drugged?" She repeated.

"Explain the chakram then?" Gabrielle challenged. "We went to sleep that night, and you had all your things with you. Then we wake up and suddenly, the chakram is gone, only to be returned by this Brother Mavon when he gives me this." She held up the small wooden box.

Suddenly, she stopped. "What if he managed to steal it somehow? To make it easier for us to trust him when he gives it back to you and then hands me this." Her eyes went wide with childish imagination. "And then secretly, he's given us something that could destroy the entire world as we know it, because he knows that we get into all kinds of trouble, and occasionally, we need help. We get into a bind, I open the box and the next thing you know, there's this terrible plague that wipes everyone out!"

"Do you come up with this stuff on your own?" Xena asked. "Or are the Fates bouncing around din that head of yours?"

"I'm serious!" Gabrielle protested. She shook the box gently and heard the contents rattle within. "Or maybe it's a key." She resumed. "A key to a treasure that could save the world or destroy the world, depending on who opens it."

"And this Brother Mavon gives it to you because, why?" Xena replied, smiling. "Because you're the last righteous person on earth?" She stopped for a moment to get her bearings and then pointed. "This way."

They both stopped when they heard the distant sound of rolling thunder behind them. Turning, they saw the line of dark clouds moving towards them. Spots of pale bluish green flashed amidst the heavy clouds.

"Oh, great," Xena sighed.

Gabrielle nodded. "We're going to get wet."

"Hail, Princess Obvious," Xena retorted with a smile. "Come on. Let's see if we can get a shelter up before it starts. At least we might be able to stay somewhat dry."

The two of them jogged deeper into the surrounding wood and began to gather branches to make a shelter.

They found a place, near two fallen trees. The trunks rested against a third, even larger one, providing a large piece for them to shelter in. It was even facing the right direction.

Quickly, the two women began lashing the smaller branches together and affixing them to the trunk in one large sloping sheet. The wind began to blow more strongly and the sun vanished behind a wall of shadow. Everything changed from brilliant color with a deep shade of gray, and then a sickly green.

"It's going to be a big one!" Gabrielle shouted over the rising wind.

"No kidding!" Xena replied, quickly finishing their shelter. She threw one of her skin blankets across the lattice and tied the corners down just as the first large drops began to fall.

"Perfect timing!" Gabrielle cheered as the two of them ducked beneath the tree trunk.

The wind howled around them, and rain battered the roof of their make shift lean to. They huddled on the ground, shivering as the temperature plummeted and the humidity began to seep through to their bones with an unholy chill.

"This sucks!" Gabrielle complained.

"Better than being stuck out there!" Xena replied, pointing out at the windy expanse before them.

Then the two of them blinked in surprise. Through the swirling debris and the sheets of rain, they each saw the shape of a person, struggling through the maelstrom.

"Someone's out there!" Xena shouted.

"That's crazy!" Gabrielle replied. Then she saw the figure again, struggling against the wind as it weaved a staggering path just beyond the row of trees closest to their shelter.

Xena didn't hesitate. She ran out into the storm, calling for the person.

There was aloud cracking sound, and she saw a branch break free and come plummeting down towards the hapless figure ahead.

"Look out!" she cried, and she leapt forward. Her arm wrapped about the narrow shoulders of the figure and the two of them toppled forward just as a large branch crashed down where the stranger had been standing.

Xena quickly helped the stranger back up.

"We have a shelter nearby!' she shouted. "Come on!"

Gabrielle was just about to go out into the storm after her friend when she saw Xena and a second figure emerge through the wind and the rain.

"Come on!" she shouted. "Over here!"

The stranger collapsed within their shelter, breathing hard.

"Thank you," A soft wizened voice said. She was a small, older woman, with soaked gray hair and sharp blue eyes. She smiled at them kindly. "I was lost, and then this storm started, and I didn't know what I was going to do."

"Do you live near here?" Gabrielle asked.

The woman considered for a moment and then shook her head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Where were you going?" Xena asked.

"Oh, just moving about, you know," she replied evasively. Her eyes gazed out at the storm around them and she sighed. Green lightning flashed about them and the thunder roared like some unholy monster.

"Thank you so much for saving me," she continued. She reached into the folds of her waterlogged cloak and handed something to Xena.

Xena shook her head. "It's alright," she smiled.

"No," the old woman replied. "This is for you. I was told that this is for you, and only you."

She pressed the objects into Xena's hand and closed her fingers around it.

The lightning flashed again, blindingly close.

"Move back!" Xena ordered, scooting further beneath the protection of the fallen tree.

The three of them moved as far back as they could. Then the world flashed an unholy green around them and suddenly, Xena felt herself flying through the air.

A light, brilliant and yellow, burned her eyes and she saw golden grasses rushing forward to meet her.

"Gabrielle!" she shouted. Then she struck the earth hard and the world went black.

Xena rolled painfully over onto her back, seeing the sunlight behind her eyelids in a brilliant red. She raised a hand to her eyes, shielding herself from the sudden blinding light. She must have been unconscious for hours if the storm had completely blown over.

"Gabrielle?" she managed to croak. "You okay?"

A soft painful groan came from off to one side.

"What was that?" Gabrielle asked a few moments later. "I feel like I just got thrown from a chariot, and then run over by it."

"I don't know," Xena replied. The young bard's description of her discomfort was accurate.

She opened her eyes and saw deep, cloudless blue sky above her.

Sitting up, she found herself lying in the middle of an endless expanse of gently rolling hills. The entire horizon was covered in tall waves of golden grasses, and the setting sun shone red in the western sky. Here and there, pale gray stone rose from the earth, and to their left, Xena could see the distant jagged peaks of mountains.

"Where in Tartarus are we?" she asked aloud.

Slowly, Gabrielle got to her knees and looked about in growing confusion.

She surveyed her wet clothing and the dry ground around them. "Did the storm blow over?" she asked. Looking up, she saw the wispy remnants of clouds moving lazily across the face of the setting sun.

Xena looked down at her soaked clothing and then at the dry ground around them.

"Must have, though I don't get this," she indicated herself. "If we were lying out here long enough for the ground to be dry, then we should be too."

Gabrielle checked her supplies, hoping against hope that her spare clothing had escaped the inundation. Unfortunately, everything within the bag as well as the bag itself was laden with water.

"It's going to take hours to dry all this stuff out," she complained. Then she looked around them at the vast rolling hills and plains.

"It could be the hills near Corinth," Gabrielle offered.

Xena smiled. "What is it with you and Corinth?" she asked. "If we end up in the mountains, it's the hills near Corinth. In the woods, it's near Corinth. Out here in the middle of nowhere, we're near Corinth. If I tell you to run away, you tell me you won't stop till you reach Corinth." She chuckled and resumed surveying the surroundings. "It's always Corinth with you."

Gabrielle shrugged. She began removing her clothing and stretching it out on a nearby rock to dry.

"I like Corinth," she muttered quietly.

They stayed for the afternoon, allowing the sun and the warmth to dry their garments and relax the soreness in their joints.

A quick scouting of the surrounding lands revealed nothing but endless rolling plains as far as the eye could see. Off to the East, she could see the hazy shape of mountains, and more, closer peaks rose from the earth to the North.

They sat down to a meager supper of dried meat and fruits as Xena contemplated their next course of action.

Gabrielle recognized Xena's thoughtful expression and remained mostly silent for the remainder of the afternoon.

Once their belongings had dried out, they repacked their supplies and got ready to continue.

"So," Gabrielle said as she shouldered her small traveling bag. "Which way?"

Xena scanned the distance, seeking some inspiration. High above, they both heard the cry of an eagle as it circled lazily on the wind. It cried again and the wheeled slowly towards the east and vanished.

Xena shrugged. "Let's follow him," she offered. "We'll set up camp in a little while, before it gets too dark."

Gabrielle nodded in agreement and the two of them began moving off through the fields.

As they continued throughout the day, Gabrielle began to notice something strange about her friend. It seemed that Xena was slowing down. Her usually ruddy complexion seemed paler than usual, and it looked as if it were getting worse.

At one point, Xena stumbled and nearly lost her footing.

"Hey?" Gabrielle asked as she caught her friends arm. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Xena replied. "Just a little dizzy. Probably from whatever hit us. I'll be fine."

Gabrielle looked at her friend closely. "You're sure?"

Xena smiled. "I'll be fine."

They continued until the sun had nearly set in a deep magenta haze behind the distant hills. Then they found a smooth patch of land and spread out their sleeping rolls. The stars emerged, pale and silver in the velvet sky. In a matter of moments, Xena had a small, merry fire crackling. The two of them held their hands out to the warmth.

As Xena rubbed her hands together, her gaze turned upwards and she frowned.

"That's strange," she commented. "There was no moon last night." Her eyes locked on the large pale white disk floating above them in the heavens. "And now, all of a sudden, we have a full moon?"

Gabrielle stopped her preparations and scanned the heavens. Her frown deepened as she searched in vain.

"I can do one better," she replied. "Why are the stars wrong?"

"Wrong how?"

Gabrielle smiled. "I know most of the star constellations in the sky, and I can't find a single one of them. It's like someone moved everything out of place."

Xena leaned back against a large gray stone, still warm with the heat of the passing day.

She let the warmth penetrate her skin and closed her eyes. "Well, we can't do anything about the stars. We'll figure it all out in the morning."

Gabrielle sighed and leaned next to Xena, staring up at the sky in wonder.

"You have that look again," Xena said, smiling as she watched Gabrielle's expression.

"Just thinking," Gabrielle replied automatically.

"That's the one." Xena countered.

Gabrielle gave her a sarcastic smile in response, and then turned her eyes back up towards the heavens.

"_Mistress Gabrielle, Mistress Xena, I would like to congratulate you both on being the first individuals on your entire world, to leave it."_

Gabrielle blinked as another quick needle of pain jabbed the inside of her skull with the unbidden memory.

"You okay?" Xena asked.

"Yeah," Gabrielle winced. "Just another little twinge."

"Like before?" Xena asked. Her friend nodded.

"I feel like I should remember something, but whenever I try, it's like someone or something just pulls the memory out of reach. It's like seeing someone that you know, but you can't recall their name no matter how hard you try. It's on the tip of your tongue, but you just can't say it."

Xena was about to reply when a noise off to one side of their camp caught her attention. Instantly, she was alert, her hand on her sword hilt, and her eyes scanning the growing shadows.

Her head turned quickly at another sound, barely audible, yet distinct. Like a snuffling, or perhaps a muffled growl.

Gabrielle heard the second noise and also tensed. She reached down and slowly lifted her staff, feeling the comfortable grip of the smooth wood in her hands.

"Trouble?" she whispered.

"Knowing our luck," Xena nodded.

Xena's senses screamed, and she reached over, grasping Gabrielle by the shoulder and yanking her away from the stone just as a shadowy figure leapt over it with a snarling howl.

Xena's sword flashed up and connected with the steel of the assailant's weapon. There was a spark, and in that flash of light, Xena beheld a creature she could never have imagined.

She pushed the shock out of her mind and attacked.

Howls and roars erupted all around them. At least thirty of the figures charged at them from all directions.

Xena stabbed the first attacker through the chest, feeling the blade punch through thick hide armor before biting the softer flesh beneath. The creature howled in pain and fell away.

Xena turned back towards Gabrielle, who struggled against three of the figures. Their eyes glowed yellow or red in the fading light, and the air was filled with a vile odor. She saw the gnashing of pointed yellow teeth.

"Gabrielle!" Xena shouted, but two more of the creatures suddenly blocked her path. She went mad with fury and cut them both down only to be confronted by another, and then another as she was driven further and further away from her friend.

Gabrielle did her best to defend herself, but her staff was no match for several sword wielding brutes that were much taller, stronger and more savage than anyone she had ever faced before.

She caught one of them with a solid blow across the side of the head, and felt the staff ring against a metallic helm of some kind. The head boggled to one side and back, fierce red eyes fixed on her with wrath.

"Not good," Gabrielle backed away and ducked before another creature swung a huge, black bladed sword, nearly taking her head off.

She came around and swung the staff again, this time, sweeping the legs of another creature out from under it. It went down with a howl and even managed to trip up several others, giving Gabrielle a crucial few seconds to get back a few paces. Off to her left, she could hear Xena crying with fury as she fought her own desperate battle. Then another figure charged her. She raised her staff in defense, only to have another heavy sword smash through the hardened wood with a crack.

Gabrielle improvised, swinging the two halves of her broken weapon like clubs now, and beating the creatures back.

A quick glance at a small, nearby rise, found another figure, even larger than the creatures she was fighting, standing and directing the battle. In one hand he held a large, wicked looking bow. A quiver of long arrows hung at his hip, and he was drawing one of those arrows, notching it to his bow and looking right at her.

"Bow!" Gabrielle shouted, trying to warn Xena.

The creature drew back and released. The arrow whistled through the night, straight at Gabrielle's chest.

On pure instinct, Gabrielle raised one of the broken sections of staff and felt the arrow strike the wood. The impact sent the staff recoiling up and striking her in the face. She staggered back, dazed and shocked, but still alive.

"I did it," she managed to gasp as she turned. She thought she heard Xena scream, and then she felt it. It was like something pressed against her side for just a moment, and then it ripped into her body, sending a flash of white hot pain all the way down to her toes.

The face before her wasn't even close to human. Narrow yellow eyes glared at her behind a short, misshapen snout. Long yellow teeth leered hungrily at her, and the foul breath hit her as hard as the knife that she knew was in her side. The creature was dark skinned, or perhaps it was just that filthy.

She felt her legs give out and she dropped to her knees in shock.

The world slowed, as if time itself were stretching out the final moments of her life. She looked up and saw Xena smash through two more attackers in a desperate charge to save her life. She was battered and bleeding in several places. Her eyes were alight with a fury so powerful that it seemed to make them glow. Gabrielle smiled even as the creature raised a wicked looking sword for the killing blow.

Xena cried out in horror as another attacker smashed into her from behind. She wheeled in a lethal move, running it through between the shoulder blades, but the damage was done, she went down even as she tried to hurl the chakram in one final attempt to save her best friends life. Then several of the creatures were upon her, weapons raised to hack her to pieces.

Gabrielle felt the ground tremble beneath her. She saw the weapons rising to kill her friend, tried to rise, to summon one final burst of energy in order to act, but her body refused. Looking up at the creature before her, she saw him poised to strike, frozen, with wide yellow eyes, then the creature toppled to the side, and she saw the arrows protruding from its back. The white feathers on the shaft gleamed like silver in the starlight.

More silvery shafts fell among them, and the creatures howled in surprise and fear.

The mob around Xena fell away or bolted. The ground shook, and Gabrielle saw figures of men on horses charging through the rising mist. Another hail of arrows descended upon them before she saw the men draw swords and gallop through the enemy like a tide washing over the seashore.

Those few that did manage to turn away felt more arrows bite their flesh, while the few stalwart ones who turned to fight were trampled or fell cloven by sure, quick strokes.

Then the men were past her and she was alone. Absently, she wondered how they had missed riding down upon her by accident. Then the world tilted and she knew no more.

_Gabrielle looked up at the face of the soldier. He was a young man, with fierce dark eyes and a thin shadow of stubble on his face. He held the crossbow calmly, the arrow pointed at her chest._

"_Alright, alright," Gabrielle said in surrender._

"_Get up," the man commanded. Gabrielle slowly got to her feet, feigning a stumble to her right. She sat down on the tree and rubbed her leg._

"_My leg is numb," she lied._

_The man took several steps forward._

"_I have him." A strange voice echoed in her ear_

"_You don't have to do this," Gabrielle said neutrally. "Just turn around and walk away."_

"_Shut up and get to your feet!" The soldier barked._

"_Goodbye," the strange voice said. _

"_Goodbye," Gabrielle repeated, and then the man's head seemed to explode from the eyebrows up. The spray covered the foliage behind him. He stood there for a moment, then his eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he collapsed in a quivering heap._

"_Target is down," she heard the voice say simply._

Gabrielle's eyes snapped open, the image of that soldiers face fresh in her mind.

"Xena?" she said in fright.

Several men stood or knelt around a nearby fire. Beyond them, she could see the shapes of horses standing patiently.

Keen eyes turned to look at her. The men were dressed in leather armor, and they all wore helms of polished steel. Many of them had bows and quivers at their backs.

One of them, a tall man in armor more intricately crafted than the others, knelt beside her.

"Your companion has taken hurt," he said evenly. "She lives, but she has yet to awaken."

Gabrielle tried to sit up and felt the fire knife through her side. Reaching down, she felt the bandages resting against the wound.

"Your injury has been tended," the man said, stopping her hand. Then his gaze took on a slightly sterner expression.

"Who are you? And how is it that you have come to wander in my lords' domain without leave?"

"My name's Gabrielle," she said wearily. "And my friend is Xena. We didn't know we were in your lords' domain until you just told me. We don't know where we are."

The man frowned at that. "Where were you bound?"

"Nowhere in particular," Gabrielle replied. "We were just moving on, and there was this storm, and then we woke up here."

She looked over and saw Xena, lying wrapped in blankets, with a bandage wrapped across her forehead. She looked pale in the firelight.

"Where are you from?" the man continued.

"Xena is from Amphipolis," Gabrielle explained. "And I come from Poditea. We've been traveling together."

The man stared at her, and Gabrielle felt his searching gaze penetrate her very soul. He was seeking signs of duplicity. Finally, he sighed.

"The names of your kingdoms are unfamiliar to me," he admitted. "For my part, I am Breggolard, the Fourth Marshall of the Riddomark."

Gabrielle felt weariness descending upon her again.

Breggolard smiled. "Had my men and I not found you waylaid by Orcs, we would have taken you for spies."

"Orcs?" Gabrielle frowned.

"Yes," Breggolard replied. "My men and I were tracking them, in secret, from the north until we heard the sounds of your battle. In truth, we thought that you might be one of the messengers of Gondor, sent by the King."

Gabrielle shook her head apologetically. "Sorry."

Breggolard smiled. "It is of small concern. Take some rest. In the morning, we will continue to Edoras. From there, once you have healed, you may continue on your way."

Gabrielle nodded again and closed her eyes, slipping back into strange and unfamiliar dreams.

Gabrielle was awakened the next morning by the sensation of fingers gently touching her. She opened her eyes and discovered another man gently and efficiently changing the bandage on her wound.

"Good morning," he said in a gentle baritone. He smiled. "I was hoping not to wake you while I tended this." He shrugged. "The wound is not large and should heal well in a few days."

"Thank you," Gabrielle replied thickly.

The first couple of days of traveling with these strange men were spent on a bier constructed of warm cloaks and blankets and dragged behind the sure footed horses of the riders.

By the third day, Xena had still not regained consciousness, but Gabrielle's strength had returned. She walked alongside the horses, and by the end of the fourth day, was riding one of her own.

They made camp that night at the crest of a large flat hill amidst a sea of golden grasses.

Gabrielle sat patiently on a smooth raised stone, while her new friend, a middle aged man named Hallas, checked her wound.

He smiled behind a thick layer of fiery tainted whiskers.

"You heal quickly," he said with a nod. "Faster than most with an injury such as this."

Gabrielle shrugged, ignoring the subtle twinge of discomfort the movement caused.

She looked over at Xena, still lying pale and unconscious. Now, a thin sheen of perspiration was visible on her forehead.

"How's my friend?" she asked anxiously.

"Not well," Hallas replied grimly. "She was badly hurt when we got to you. Her fever began last evening and is getting worse. If it does not break by nightfall, I am going to request that I and several others head to Minas Tirith instead of Edoras."

Gabrielle frowned. The names meant nothing to her. "Don't you have healers in your home?"

"Indeed," Hallas nodded. "Yet the healers of Minas Tirith are the most gifted. I fear that your friends' wounds are beyond the skill of our best."

"Is she going to die?" Gabrielle managed to ask, though the question seemed reluctant to emerge from her, as if stating it would somehow grant it the power to be so.

Hallas gave her a grim, but reassuring nod. "If we get her to the healers in time, I think she will live."

"I am not comfortable with the prospect of you traveling with a wounded woman all the way to Minas Tirith, unprotected," Breggolard said a little while later. Hallas had informed him of his concerns regarding Xena, and his desire to seek treatment elsewhere. "In truth, the road would be treacherous enough, even if you could travel it quickly by horse. But encumbered as you will be with the Lady Xena, it may bode very badly for you. If none of Lord Aragorn's messengers have arrived from there, then we must assume that the Orcs have moved far enough south of the Isen to cut us off from Gondor."

"My Lord," Hallas replied earnestly. "We do not even know if our original messengers ever arrived in Gondor. It is possible that Gondor did not even receive our word. In either case, another effort should be made, and since the Lady Xena requires healing that only the Lords of Gondor may provide, it is only right that she be taken as well."

Breggolard held his hands up beseechingly. "I did not say that I did not agree with you. I am merely concerned that you may run into trouble that you will be ill prepared to handle. In the least, I deem that the Lady Gabrielle should not accompany you until we know more."

"Not happening," Gabrielle interjected. "Where Xena goes, I go. If you're taking her to this Minas Tirith, then I'm going with her."

Breggolard smiled. "You have great courage," he said. "And more than a little fire. Yet I do not think you understand your peril. I can spare only a handful of my men to accompany you. Should you encounter the enemy, it may not be enough to protect you."

Though the statement was well meant, Gabrielle felt a sudden ferocity that bordered on insult.

"Xena and I have been in worse scrapes than this!" She blurted out. Then she stopped.

"Sorry. I'm worried about her, and I won't be separated from her. It's that simple. If this place is where we need to go to help her, then I'm going, with or without you. Just point me in the right direction."

Both Hallas and Breggolard raised eyebrows in an expression that blended amusement and appreciation in equal measure.

Finally Breggolard sighed. "It is against my liking, but I shall grant you leave to accompany the men to Minas Tirith." Then he held up a hand. "Should I learn otherwise from my king, I will send riders to return with you, is that understood?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Then it shall be so," Breggolard turned and whistled to one of the other men standing nearby.

"Branno," he ordered. "Select four men to accompany Master Hallas and the wounded. You will make for Minas Tirith as soon as all can be prepared."

"My Lord," Branno, a young golden haired man of fair features, turned and quickly began shouting for several others.

The men began setting aside provisions for the journey. Weapons were checked and strapped to their saddles. Several men donated arrows for the escorts' depleted quivers.

As the sun set, the contingent was prepared to set out at dawn the following day.

The men settled in to sleep, rolled up in their cloaks. The horses stood nearby stamping patiently or dozing.

Gabrielle sat next to Xena, her fingers clasping Xena's hand.

Xena's face was covered in sweat, and she mumbled in her stupor.

Another figure knelt opposite. Gabrielle looked up and accepted a cool cloth from Hallas.

"She is dreaming in her fever." He commented.

Gabrielle only nodded.

Hallas studied the wounded woman critically for a moment. "I have often wondered," he began slowly. "Where the soul wanders when the body has taken such hurt."

Gabrielle shook her head. "I was wounded a few years ago," she said. "And I can't remember much, except that I was in a place completely unfamiliar to me. It was like another world." She stopped suddenly and winced as another bolt of pain rifled through her mind.

Hallas looked at her in concern. "Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine," Gabrielle said, waving the concern away. "Sometimes it hurts to remember."

Hallas nodded. "I understand. I, too, have painful memories of my past." He checked Xena's wounds and began changing bandages. "Perhaps that is where the soul wanders when the body has taken hurt. It goes to those places we dare not imagine, because the memory is too painful."

Gabrielle shrugged.

Hallas paused for a few moments and then sighed. "Encumbered as we will be with your friend," he explained. "We are looking at a five day journey to the Pelannor." He placed the used bandages into a small bag. "I shall try to make the journey in less time, as long as your strength holds, and we can ensure the safety of your friend."

Gabrielle nodded. "I understand."

Gabrielle was awakened in the small hours before dawn. She hadn't even realized that she had fallen asleep.

"It is time," Hallas said.

Gabrielle's horse, a tall, proud mare, was brought over and the bier holding Xena was placed against the horses flank. The coat of the animal was a deep gray, accented by pale white. When she moved, it was as if clouds writhed across her frame, like gathering thunderclouds.

Hallas patted the mare's strong neck and smiled. "This is Storm." He said. "She is a proud animal, but gentle. She will bear you and your friend safely and smoothly on our journey."

Gabrielle nodded gratefully.

Once the bier was secure and Gabrielle's meager supplies were packed, Breggolard called them over to him.

"Be wary on your road," he said. He turned and presented Gabrielle with a bundle of clothing and armor and a small helm, such as the men of the Rohirrim wore. He also presented her with a sword in a battered leather scabbard.

"Your weapon was broken in the battle," he offered. "I have none but this to replace it. Take these as a gift of the Rohirrim, Gabrielle Sunmane. I have known you for precious few hours, and yet I see in you the grace of the Shield Maidens of Eol. May the spirit of Helm the Hammerhand protect you on your journey."

Gabrielle accepted the gift and nodded. Though she didn't know the meaning of the titles, she knew she was being granted some form of honor, and the looks of the men standing around her only reinforced that impression.

"Thank you, Breggolard," Gabrielle swallowed. "Thanks for everything you've done for my friend and I."

Breggolard nodded. "We shall ride north, and a little east, in order to guard your flank for a time, before returning to Edoras."

He turned and, along with the other men in the company, a full thirty in number mounted their horses. Breggolard donned a helm of silver and steel.

"I bid you good speed," he nodded to Hallas. Then he wheeled his horse to face the rest of his men. "We ride north!" he called in a clear voice. In one body, the entire company wheeled their mounts and thundered away.

Gabrielle watched the riders vanish over the rolling hills, feeling the thunder of the hooves reverberating in her belly.

Hallas stepped up beside her. "It is time, My Lady."

Gabrielle nodded. She tied her new gear to the saddle and climbed astride Storm, looking back to check the fastenings of the bier one last time.

Hallas also mounted his horse, a large, powerful chestnut charger.

"Branno!" he called. "We ride due east, along the path of the Riddomark, to Minas Tirith!"

"Sir!" Branno replied. With a wave of his hand, the seven horses turned and began their journey.

The sun shone across the endless expanse of gold as the company moved east. The hills rose and fell behind them.

As they rode, Gabrielle examined some of the items Breggolard had presented to her.

"Hallas?" she asked. "What did he mean when he called me Sunmane?"

Hallas smiled.

"We saw you fighting, just before you were struck." He said. "As he beheld you, he made mention to me of how well you fought. A sentiment to which I agreed. Later, while I tended to your wounds, I mentioned that your hair shone golden, like the sun, even in the night. A sentiment to which My Lord Captain agreed." He offered a somewhat sheepish smile. "So shall you be named in the halls of Meduseld, to King Eomer. Gabrielle Sunmane, friend of the Eolingas."

Gabrielle felt a flush on her cheeks as she absorbed that. Then she smiled. "Sunmane," she said, as if tasting the word. "Sunmane. I kinda like that."

Storm carried Gabrielle and Xena quickly and smoothly, just as Hallas had said she would. She seemed to instinctively know where to turn and walk to avoid various small ruts and blemishes hidden in the waving grass.

They stopped late in the day for their only meal and then continued until deep into the night, under the light of the moon.

Their second day was much like their first, and their third was the same. On the afternoon of the fourth day, the company came across the remnants of a camp.

A small fire pit rested, the ashes long cold, and nearby, the tattered remains of two modest tents rested half toppled on the plain. The color of the tents was a rich green trimmed in gold, and the remains of a banner fluttered on the end of a spear, planted as a standard near the larger of the two tents.

"This does not bode well," Hallas commented. "Verily, these are the tents of the emissary that was dispatched to Minas Tirith several weeks past."

He nodded to Branno, and the young man led the rest of the company into the camp, while Hallas and Gabrielle stayed behind.

A short time later, Branno returned. His face was grim.

"There is no one in the camp, sir." He turned and pointed at a pair of men. "We found the bodies, there beyond the tents, hewn by many strokes."

He presented the torn banner to Hallas.

Hallas nodded. "Tend to the fallen, and see if you can discover who did this."

Branno nodded. "Only Orcs are this vicious, sir. Yet there are no bodies of the enemy, no trace of their coming or going."

"If the Orcs have come this far south into the Wold or Rohan, then we must take advantage of Lord Breggolard's march. We will continue once our comrades have been laid to rest."

"Sir," Branno nodded and returned to the rest of the company.

Gabrielle urged Storm into the camp and dropped to the ground.

The spear that had served to fly the banner stood upright in the earth.

Gabrielle inspected the shaft of the weapon critically for a moment before returning to the horse and drawing the sword that Breggolard had given her.

With two swift strokes, she had severed the head of the spear and removed it from the ground.

The impromptu staff was a little longer than she was used to, and only a bit heavier, but the wood was hardened like iron and balanced well. She replaced her sword and spun the staff in a few practice arcs.

Hallas watched this with a curious expression.

Gabrielle shrugged. "I'm not much into swords?"

Hallas stared at the sky and then off into the distance.

"We are nearing the great plain of the Pelannor," he offered. "We should reach it by late morning tomorrow."

He mixed some herbs into a small bowl and began, like he had every day of the journey so far, to clean Xena's wounds. Xena's eyes opened while he worked, and for a moment, they thought she might be waking. But then Gabrielle saw the dreamy, dull look in her eyes and knew that Xena was somewhere else.

Xena's eyes looked up at Hallas with defiance, but no recognition.

"Had enough yet?" She asked. "It'll take more than that to break me you spineless bastard."

Then her eyes rolled up and her head collapsed back against the small rolled bundle that served as her pillow.

Gabrielle froze in shock. The expression on Xena's face had been one of tortured resignation. It was as if she were expecting someone to kill her outright, not save her life.

Hallas also stopped momentarily, somewhat shocked by his patient's words.

"Then again," he offered grimly. "Perhaps it is better if one does not know where the soul wanders when the body is failing."

For the first time during the journey, his face began to show frustration.

"I cannot understand this," he finally said. "The Athelas was culled no more than a fortnight ago. It should still be quite potent, and yet, it is as if it does nothing for your friends' injuries."

Gabrielle simply shook her head in confusion.

"If I didn't know better," Hallas continued. "It would seem to me that your friend does not wish to be healed."

"Xena's a warrior," Gabrielle replied. "A fighter. She wouldn't give up, no matter what."

"Were the blades of these Orcs poisoned in any way?" she asked suddenly.

"Indeed," Hallas nodded. "It is their way, yet I have already countered that. Or so I thought. But this fever is unlike anything I have ever seen in my experience."

He continued his inspection. "We must reach Minas Tirith very soon." He finished. He seemed to be considering for a moment, then he waved Branno to him.

"Sir?"

"We will take our meal here," he said after a few more moments. "Tell the others we will ride through the night to Minas Tirith."

"Very good, sir," Branno replied smartly.

And ride they did, as quickly as the riders and the land would allow. Gabrielle could feel that even Storm, her mount, could sense the urgency of the situation.

The moon rose pale and brilliant amidst the sea of stars. Its pale light shone silver against the grass and made the weapons of her companions shimmer like glass.

Shadowy hills rose and fell before them. The ground slowly settled to something more flat, until Gabrielle could see an endless silver horizon stretching out before her. At the edge of her vision, she could just make out the deep purple shadows of distant craggy mountains. The night air was cool and fragrant and it revived her as she rode.

Gabrielle watched as the moon slowly arced through the deep twilight until it was beginning to descend back towards the earth. Suddenly, she could feel a weariness settle upon her. She yawned deeply and blinked a few times, fighting the sudden grogginess.

"Are you well?" Hallas asked from beside her.

Gabrielle smiled and nodded. "Just getting sleepy."

"We are nearly there," Hallas nodded to a small cleft in the landscape.

"Beyond that rise the land descends into the valley of the Pelannor, and beyond that, you shall see Minas Tirith, the City of the Kings."

In spite of the urgent errand, Gabrielle felt that familiar surge of curious excitement and anticipation that she got whenever she discovered something for the first time.

The momentary weariness vanished and a smile touched her lips even as she looked back to check on her best friend.

The smile vanished.

Xena was pale, almost pasty, in the silver light of the moon. Her expression was the same, a tortured look that sent a chill up Gabrielle's spine. The sweat on her brow glistened and she turned her head slightly as Storm tread past various depressions both seen and unseen. Had she looked that bad the night before they arrived in the ruins of Cyerna?

"We have to hurry," she said in a hushed voice.

"Indeed," Hallas replied. He also studied Xena for a moment. Then his face went grim and he looked at the distant lands before him.

With a quick kick of his heels, his horse trotted ahead to walk next to the one ridden by his lieutenant, Branno.

The two men exchanged hasty words, and then, with another, sharper kick, he galloped of into the pale distance. The hooves of his horse thundered away like a rolling storm.

At the same time, Gabrielle noticed that their little formation was turning away in a more southerly direction.

They were also quickening their pace a little. Storm nickered in protest as her pace increased. She turned her large head back and looked at the figure on the bier behind her, and then her thoughtful dark eyes fixed again on the ground before them.

They passed over a small rise and Gabrielle suddenly understood the reason for the change in direction. Down below she could make out the line of a well worn road moving from the west and continuing eastwards toward a single, pale gray mountain of rock.

Gabrielle's eyes went wide with amazement and her jaw went slack.

Nestled into the living gray rock of the mountain were the shimmering white rings of a massive city, rising from the floor of the valley beside a wide river, and rising up seven levels to the large flat peak. A single massive piece of smoothed stone extended from the peak, like the prow of some gargantuan ship. The entire one twinkled in the night with lights from countless torches, candles and fires. Banners fluttered on silvery poles as large stone buildings rose nearly touching their inner neighbors on the next tier up. It looked like an enormous pale crown had been set against the wall of rock.

"Oh, Xena," Gabrielle breathed when she finally found her voice. "I wish you could see this. That is a city!"

As she gazed in wonder at the place, she saw several figures emerge from the main gates. Two torches twinkled near them as they rode out away from the massive stone wall. They turned and began traversing the path of the rode, crossing a large stone bridge and continuing towards them.

The sound of their hooves reached Gabrielle's ears and she frowned. It was more than one horse and they were coming towards her at suicidal speed.

"Master Hallas returns!" Branno shouted, bringing the company to a halt next to the road.

Gabrielle watched as the small group approached. Now she could make out the small wagon attached to Hallas's horse. It bounced and creaked madly behind him.

Behind the wagon came two more men dressed in fine robes. They were older than Hallas, and clearly uncomfortable with the pace. Still, the trio arrived mere minutes later.

The wagon clattered to a halt and Gabrielle saw that it was lined with several blankets and hides.

"Help me get her into the wagon," Hallas ordered as he jumped from his mount.

Branno dropped to the earth and the two men unhooked the bier from Storm's saddle, lifting the semi conscious Xena onto the wagon.

The two men that had followed Hallas also climbed in and began examining Xena's injuries.

Hallas smacked their two horses on the rumps and sent them galloping back towards the city.

"We ride with haste to the Houses of Healing," Hallas said as he climbed back upon his horse. "We are expected, and the King requests your presence upon our arrival."

He looked pointedly at Gabrielle.

Under that look, Gabrielle suddenly felt a little uneasy. Then she realized that his earnest expression had more to do with the condition of his patient than the summons by the King.

Hallas nodded to the others and turned the wagon about before heading towards the city at a smooth but swift trot.

The rest of the company followed down the long gentle slope into the Pelannor and towards a pair of the largest gates that Gabrielle had ever seen in her life.

As they neared, Hallas reached down and took up a silver horn upon which he blew a long, clear two note call. The horn blast was echoed by a reply, and then the large gates slowly began to swing inward.

The rough worn path gave way to smooth paving stones as they came within the shadows of the massive bastions that towered on either side of the gate.

As Gabrielle trotted past the entrance, she saw that the gate itself was several feet thick, made from wrought iron, and carved in the images of tall kings in shining armor. The entry arch alone was more than forty feet deep. The horse's hooves clattered and echoed in the short tunnel. Here and there, the metal shoes struck sparks against the cold, pale stone.

They emerged from the entry arch and into a paved courtyard dominated by the statue of a man on horseback, holding a drawn bow in his hands. About the marble base were graven many symbols that Gabrielle had to assume were writing, though she couldn't decipher them.

Tall pale stone buildings stretched up all around her, and people moved about here and there, going about their various businesses.

Gabrielle was numbed by the effort of taking it all in.

"Gods," she breathed as Storm turned a complete circle in the courtyard. "This is amazing."

"My Lady!" Hallas called to her. She turned and saw him at the entrance to a wide street that climbed up along the side of the hill face.

"The Houses of Healing are on the sixth level!" He called. "Follow us!"

With that, the five horses and the wagon clattered up the hill and around the switchback.

Gabrielle forced her shock aside and spurred her horse after them.

Her ears popped as she wound her way up the long avenues before turning back and ascending the next wide street. Once they passed the second level, they were forced to pass through the massive outcropping with each subsequent rise, so that she was able to gauge the half way point on each level when they reached the next tunnel.

As the levels went up, the length of the central tunnel through the massive prow of the city also increased.

Finally, after much popping of the ears, they came around the final switchback, passed through the last tunnel and drew to a halt outside a large, ornate stone structure.

Two ladies, dressed in fine white gowns, trimmed in a darker color that may have been blue, stood waiting near the entrance to a courtyard that led into the building itself.

They required no urging from the company when the wagon creaked to a stop before them. The two men that had been working on Xena the entire way dropped lithely to the ground and then the two ladies picked up the bier and they bore Xena into the courtyard and to the main building.

"Hey!" Gabrielle called after them. She dropped to the ground and rushed after them.

A strong hand caught her arm, spinning her around to face Hallas. His face was covered in a fine layer of dust from the road, and his shining helm was dulled from many miles. He looked at her with keen, pale eyes.

"You must be announced to the King before anything else," he said simply. "Let us attend to that now, and then you may join your friend."

Gabrielle extricated her arm from his grip and nodded.

The wagon was removed from Hallas's horse, and the two of them rode up the final switchback towards the magnificent stone spires of the castle.

A livery man took charge of their mounts when they arrived. They passed through a marbled archway and into the large paved clearing before the palace.

Here and there, small fountains bubbled and gurgled merrily. The flat pavement extended from the front entrance of the palace all the way to the furthest tip of the rock outcropping, thousands of feet above the valley floor providing an incredible vista of the surrounding land for many miles in all directions.

Before the steps that led up into the palace, there was a single large circular patch of grass, and within the center of that circle stood a tree, a sapling really, tall and straight, and covered in pale blossoms.

Gabrielle pondered the tree for a moment, trying to place its species, but she had no success.

"That is the white tree of Gondor," Hallas offered, seeing her interest. "I am no lore master, but I know that the King knows many tales including the origins of this tree which is the symbol of the Kings of Numenor."

Again, the names and lineages carried no meaning, but the reverence with which Hallas spoke of the tree led her quickly to realize that it was important.

They ascended the steps onto a long columned area and paused before a massive set of dark wooden doors. To either side stood two guards dressed in silver and black, wearing whining helms with filigreed white wings protruding from the sides. Each held a long spear in one hand, a shield slung at their back, and a sword hung at their sides. They turned their eyes on the travelers.

"Stay," one of them commanded. "Here you must set aside your weapons."

Hallas unbuckled his sword belt and set it against the wall. Gabrielle did the same with her staff.

The Guards looked at them for a moment and then turned smartly and pulled the massive doors open.

Hallas gestured before him. "This way, My Lady," he offered with a nod.

Once inside, Hallas removed his helmet and let his long brown hair fall free about his shoulders.

The first hall, like the outer wall, was of polished white stone. The floor was of marble that alternated from black and white, and polished to a glassy sheen.

All along the corridor was lined with fine benches, statuary, or tapestries.

Huge windows lined one side, filled with glass of many colors. They sparkled in the bright moonlight like jewels.

With every step she took further into this strange new land, she felt herself slipping deeper and deeper into a sense of awestruck wonder.

The pair finished their walk down the hall and came to a second set of dark wooden doors. Two more guards pulled the doors aside, and they entered another chamber.

This one was almost like a cathedral or temple. The ceiling rose to a huge height, supported by finely hewn stone arches. Columns lined either side of the hall, and between them, carved in dark stone were the images of kings, all standing erect and proud, their cold dark gaze turned towards them.

At the far end, on a low platform sat an ornate, dark chair, not a throne by any stretch of the imagination, but a simple, albeit well crafted and comfortable looking arm chair.

Above that, on a raised dais sat a man on an actual throne. He was clad in varying hues of blue and silver, and upon his head rested a crown of silver.

Someone spoke behind her, but she didn't hear the words.

The king, he was obviously the king, was a strong featured man, with long dark brown hair and beard. His eyes were a pale blue gray like freshly polished steel. Those eyes were fixed upon her, and she perceived through the numbness an air of polite expectation.

"Gabrielle?" the voice said again, and this time, Hallas touched her on the arm.

"Huh? What?" Gabrielle started. She took a deep breath suddenly, and realized that in her amazement, she had forgotten to breathe. "Oh, sorry." She turned her gaze again to the king and desperately tried to keep her wits intact.

The king leaned forward slightly as they approached.

"Greetings," he said in a soft, gentle baritone.

"My King," Hallas replied, stepping quickly to Gabrielle's side and dropping respectfully to one knee.

The king smiled and rose, stepping down to greet his guests.

"Rise," he said amicably. Then a gentle frown of recognition came over him as he stared at Gabrielle's companion.

"I know you, do I not?"

"Indeed, My Lord," Hallas smiled. "Hallas, son of Hama, My Lord."

The king smiled, and instantly, Gabrielle felt as if the chamber had warmed.

"Of course," he said. "Hallas. I remember you well. It is a long time since we stood at Helms Deep together."

"Nigh on twenty years, My Lord Aragorn." Hallas replied. "I am honored that you remember me."

"How are you?" The king asked. "What news of the Mark, my good Hallas?"

"I am well, My Lord," Hallas replied. "Though, the rest of Rohan does not fare so well. Am I to understand that none of our messengers have gotten through?"

The king shook his head. "We have heard no word from Edoras in some months. In fact, I was about to send riders to Meduseld to discover if all was indeed well."

Hallas sighed. "All is not well, My Lord. We have, of late, been accosted by Orcs from the North. We have also lost all contact with your Steward, Gowardred, at Isengard. We sent riders to investigate, but none have returned. My King Eomer seeks your aid and council in these matters."

"And how is it that you were able to make the journey, if it is so fraught with peril?" The King asked.

"My Lord, Breggolard," Hallas explained. "Has taken his company North and East in a diversion to draw off any of the enemy that may have been watching our road. I truly believe, My Lord, that it was this action which opened the way for us."

"Breggolard is a noble man," The King nodded. "His skill and courage are well known."

"My Lord," Hallas continued, gesturing to Gabrielle. "I present to you, a traveler – The Lady Gabrielle, called Sunmane. She and her companion were waylaid by a company of the Orcs that I spoke of. It was her companion that I have brought, with much haste, to your Houses of Healing. While I know not the lands from whence they came, they do have the favor of my Lord and Captain."

He looked at Gabrielle. "My Lady, the Lord Aragorn, High King of Gondor and Anor."

Gabrielle was breathless when those piercing eyes turned upon her again.

"Um, hi," she managed to whisper lamely.

The King smiled graciously and nodded.

"Forgive me, My Lord," Hallas continued. "But her companion has taken a hurt that is beyond my skills to heal. I brought her here because I could not think what else I could do for her. She is weak and burning with fever, even though I have been able to counter the Orc poison and treat her wounds. I would not ask this if I knew of any other way, but…"

"Take me to your companion," The King cut him off.

"Thank you, My Lord," Hallas bowed his head. "She is within the Houses of Healing."

"I shall attend her within the hour." The King replied. Then he looked at Gabrielle again. "And while I do so, I shall also hear your tale."

This time, Gabrielle managed a slight nod of the head when she spoke.

"Sure thing." She replied nervously.

Gabrielle watched in awe as the King tended to Xena's wounds. His hands moved quickly and with practiced ease. His eyes watched everything. No movement was wasted or unintentional. Still, when all was done, Xena remained unconscious and feverish.

While the King had been tending to her, Gabrielle had relayed their story to him with as much detail as she could recall.

Aragorn stared down at the woman, his brows furrowing in thought. "I do not understand this," he said. "I have treated many with wounds more dangerous than these, and they have always recovered. Even if they had been unconscious when I began, I could see signs of their recovery almost immediately. This is unlike anything I have ever encountered."

"Is Xena going to die?" Gabrielle asked.

Aragorn offered a small smile. "Not if it is in our power to prevent it, Lady." He studied her for a moment and his expression softened. "You have had a hard road, and weariness hangs heavy upon you. I shall send you a guide to take you where you may find merriment and refreshment within the city. Take some rest here, with your friend."

He stepped aside, relinquishing the chair near the bed.

"Thank you," Gabrielle replied automatically. She seated herself and took Xena's hand in hers. She didn't even hear the King depart.

"Hey," she whispered in a soft voice, half hoping Xena would wake up. "Okay, you've had your fun. Time for you to wake up now."

Xena made no indication that she even heard Gabrielle's words.

Gabrielle smiled. "I know you can hear me, Xena," she whispered. "I heard about it when we were in Corinth six months ago. Yup, there's Corinth again, popping up in our conversation." She smiled. "I was speaking to this man, who said he had heard that unconscious people can hear the voices of those who talk to them. He told me that sometimes, the voices of those we love actually help guide a sick person back. I think he's right, so I'm just going to keep talking, okay?"

She leaned down, staring at Xena's face. "Besides," she continued. "When we were in the Temple of Isclipius, I heard you calling to me when I died, so I know you can hear me." She reached out and gently wiped the perspiration from her brow. "If this is your way of getting even with me for scaring you then," she continued. "Well, it's working. Besides, all these warriors and kings are more in your line of work than mine. You've always been better at dealing with people like that than I have. You'd have a ball with all these people here. And you know what? I think Hallas and you would really hit it off. He's tall and strong – not bad looking either, when you stop and think about it. And he's a warrior, just like you are. I think it would be a good match." She grinned. "In fact, if you don't wake up right now, I'm going to start playing matchmaker on you."

Again, she paused expectantly and again, Xena made no reply.

"Okay," Gabrielle sighed. "You asked for it. I'll get to work on him as soon as I can find him again."

Xena's head turned slightly and a soft moan escaped her lips.

Gabrielle held her breath. Her heart was hammering in her chest, but Xena's slight movement was all that was forthcoming.

"All right," Gabrielle smiled. "That gets you an extra day, but if you don't wake up by tomorrow evening, I'm going to work on him for you. You'll need someone to show you the sights around here."

Her eyes turned towards the nearby window, and beyond that, the courtyard of the Houses of Healing. Beyond that, the city of Minas Tirith fell away towards the valley below.

"You don't know what you're missing," she continued. "Just seeing this place from the ground, rising up in the moonlight like a ghost, shrouded in mist and gleaming in the moonlight like pearl. Now that was something. But being here, in this city, and seeing the land beyond from way up here? I can't tell which is better?"

Gabrielle leaned back down and watched Xena for a moment. The emotion that was contained within her heart began as a pressure within her chest, slowly working its way up into her throat.

"You have to wake up, Xena," she said in a shaky voice. "There's too much going on here for me to handle all alone. I need you."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and behind it, the emotions began flowing.

"I need you to be here to see all this wonderful stuff. I don't want to see all this and not be able to share it with you." Something like a wave of panic rose in her gut. She took a few deep breaths and forced it down.

"That's one of the things you showed me," she smiled even as she cried. "Panicking doesn't do you any good. But you better wake up, or I just might."

"Um, excuse me, Miss?" A soft, tentative voice said from behind her.

Gabrielle turned to look, and found a short man standing near the arch. He was only a little taller than half her height, with sandy blondish brown hair and sharp dark eyes. He wore a pair of brown breeches, simple cream colored tunic, and a yellow embroidered waistcoat.

The first thing Gabrielle noticed, besides his diminutive stature, was that, unlike everyone else in the city, he wore no shoes and his bare feet were unusually hairy, almost furry in appearance. He had a somewhat timid, almost apprehensive expression on his face.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss," he said in a pleasant voice. "But I was told to come and fetch you, and take you to get something to eat."

Gabrielle smiled and wiped the tears from her eyes. "That's alright. I'm fine."

"Ah, yes, well," The little man replied with a cough. "Strider was most insistent that I accompany you."

"Define insistent," Gabrielle retorted.

"I don't get a meal unless you come with me, Miss," the little man answered quickly. "And trust me when I tell you, Strider isn't one to make demands as this, lightly." Then the man smiled a perfectly mischievous smile. "Besides, trust a Hobbit to find the best food in a place like this. You go alone and you mind wind up with old bread and hard tack. Not enough to fill up the corners, as we say back in the Shire."

The Hobbit's expression was so earnest that it bordered on comical.

Suddenly, Gabrielle laughed. It was an outburst of tension and anxiety that finally released itself, and she felt more at ease the instant it happened.

"What's your name?" she asked.

The Hobbit stepped into the room and then executed a very formal bow.

"Merriadoc Brandybuck, at your service and your family's," he said cheerily.

"Gabrielle," Gabrielle extended a hand.

The young hobbit took her hand and shook it firmly.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss Gabrielle," he said with a smile. Then he gestured to the open archway. Beyond were the figures of two attendants, presumably there to keep watch over her friend.

"Shall we?" Merriadoc asked.

Gabrielle preceded him out of the chamber and down the hall towards the entrance.

"Where are we going, Merriadoc?" She asked as they stepped out onto the narrow street before the house.

The Hobbit winced. "Merry, if you please. I hear the formal name so often in the court that it weighs on my ears, if you take my meaning?"

"Merry," Gabrielle repeated. "So, which way?"

Merry tapped the side of his nose and turned down the hill. "This way, Miss Gabrielle. Follow me."

They wound their way down towards the first switchback, and then the hobbit made a sharp turn into a narrower side street, continuing forward until he found a small pale building with an arched doorway. While the whole of the city was clean, this tiny back alley entrance seemed somewhat dingy by comparison. Still, it was cleaner than most places she and Xena had frequented back home.

There was a deeply carved wooden sign hanging on a protruding bar, just above the entrance. Upon it were the image of a large hammer and a pair of blacksmith's tongs.

"Welcome to the Hammer and Tongs," Merry said with a theatrical air. "It may not look very appealing, but the food is excellent and the ale is potent." He grinned.

The two of them entered the narrow door and climbed up a stairway to a second entrance. The sound of rowdy merrymaking echoed in the hall.

As they turned the narrow corner and entered the tavern proper, Gabrielle was assaulted by the sounds, lights and smells of a drinking house in full flourish.

People crowded the counter or sat at wooden tables worn smooth by years of use.

The entire place was filled with the scent of beer, meat, and smoke all in a mixture that was surprisingly appealing. Suddenly, Gabrielle felt her stomach rumble in anticipation.

When she looked down at her guide, the small Hobbit was standing on his tip toes trying to see through the throng of people. His head turned from side to side as if searching for someone in particular.

"A friend of mine was supposed to meet us here and get a table for us," he explained. Then he resumed his survey of the room.

Suddenly an earsplitting whistle sounded from the opposite corner, and the entire place fell silent. All eyes turned to another hobbit standing on a table. His fingers were still in his mouth and the whistle died as all eyes turned to fix on him expectantly.

He was similar to Merry in build and dress, although he was a little slimmer and his waistcoat was of green instead of golden yellow. At present, his cheeks were flushed almost scarlet.

He offered a nervous smile to the crowd.

"Sorry," he said, shuffling his feet nervously. Then he gestured quickly to Merry and Gabrielle.

Merry sighed. "Pippin," he grumbled. Then he smiled and gestured to his embarrassed counterpart. "This way, Miss."

They wormed their way through the crowd of people as the volume of noise once again began to rise.

Here and there, Gabrielle caught snatches of news from countries she had never heard of before, or bits of unfamiliar songs. Occasionally a voice would drift by, speaking in some exotic language that she could not identify. And above all this, laughter and merry making provided a constant hum of noise.

They reached the table, where the second hobbit now sat, smiling in greeting.

"I couldn't think of any other way to get your attention," he offered.

"A table by the door," Merry chided him. "I told you to get a table by the door."

"I would have," the other replied. "But they were all taken when I got here."

Merry gestured to his friend. "Miss Gabrielle," he introduced. "This is Peregrin Took, my cousin. Pippin, this is Miss Gabrielle."

"How do you do?" Pippin greeted her with a broad grin.

A man came by and plunked three tall mugs of frothy ale in the center of the table.

"Ah," Merry sighed. "That's more to my liking."

Gabrielle pulled one of the flagons toward her and sniffed curiously. "What is this stuff?" she asked.

"This, my dear," Merry said entranced. "Is a pint."

"Of what?" Gabrielle asked again. The stuff smelled strongly of alcohol and somewhat bitter.

"Ale," Pippin replied. Seeing her look of displeasure, he nodded. "Granted it isn't as good as the ale they brew at the Golden Perch near Bywater in the East Farthing, back home in the Shire, but it suits when it needs to." He smiled and lifted the heavy mug with two hands, taking a long drink.

Cautiously, Gabrielle took a sip of the stuff. The foam tickled her nose and then the bitter alcohol burned her throat.

She sat back and coughed.

"I know how you feel," Merry said "It has a tendency to be rather harsh the first few times, but you soon get used to it."

_The man was huge, almost massive as he towered over her. His skin was a deep coffee color and his massive frame was knotted with muscle. He was bald, with deep penetrating dark eyes. A roll of something smoldered between his teeth. He was looking at her with a mixture of compassion and amusement._

"_It always hits you hardest the first time," he said in a deep rumbling voice._

Gabrielle started as another spike of pain jabbed the inside of her skull.

Her two companions looked at her with sudden concern.

"It isn't that bad," Merry offered.

Pippin, however, had a more thoughtful expression on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Gabrielle winced and rubbed her temple. "Fine. I'm fine," she replied. "Just tired, I think."

A large plate of food was suddenly set before them and the concern vanished from the two hobbits expressions, replaced with a simple and innocent joy.

"There we are," Merry said in ecstasy. "Please, eat your fill." And without waiting, he began cutting at the large section of ham in front of him.

Gabrielle ate, all while observing her two hosts. They ate and ate in a way that Gabrielle couldn't fathom, being that the one called Merry was the taller of the two and he was no taller than her middle. They ate like men three times their size.

After nearly an hour she could bear it no more. The combination of mirth, food, and ale had relaxed her enough to where she began to speak her mind more freely.

"Where do you put it all?" she blurted suddenly.

Merry smiled. "There are few treasures in the world, and when they come, you should enjoy them to the fullest. Dinner is among them." He grinned.

"This isn't as bad as the Lembas on the river all those years ago," Pippin grinned. "How many of those did you eat before we learned?"

"I only had two," Merry countered. "But you ate four of them you old fool." He laughed.

"Yes," Pippin nodded. Then he rolled his eyes and laughed at the memory. "I felt like my belly was about to burst, but they were so tasty!"

"Lembas?" Gabrielle asked.

"Elvish way bread," Merry said as he raised his flagon to his lips again. He saw the look of confusion on her face and set the flagon back down after another long drink. "It's a cake that the elves prepared for long journeys. One little bite," he held his thumb and forefinger close together by way of example. "Well, that would be enough to keep a full sized man full for a day."

"Or so Legolas said," Pippin added with a grin. "I wish he would have told us sooner."

"Anyway," Merry continued. "If one little bite can do that to one of the Big People, then just imagine what four whole cakes, this big, would do to a little hobbit." Again he held up his hands by way of example.

"I got that part," Gabrielle smiled. "What are elves?"

At that question, both her hosts exchanged a strange look.

"What?" Gabrielle asked.

"You've never heard of the elves?" Merry asked.

"I've never heard of people like you either. I heard someone say Halfling when we came in.

At that, Merry winced again. "Hobbits, if you please."

Pippin merely studied Gabrielle as if she had suddenly turned into stone.

"Never heard of the elves, eh?" he smiled. "Or of Hobbits either?"

Gabrielle shook her head, mildly concerned that she may have offended her little hosts. Instead, Pippin grinned and slid his chair around the table closer to Gabrielle. "Well, then, we shall have to remedy that, won't we."

"That we will," Merry agreed. He leaned back and whistled again for more ale. "Perhaps, once her friend recovers, we could take them back to Rohan and see Gimli and Legolas."

"Or we could simply have her meet the Queen," Pippin replied. "Though I wouldn't mind a trip back to Edoras to see Eomer again."

"When you're granted leave," Merry replied.

"Of course." Pippin answered, mildly ruffled. Then he was focused again on Gabrielle, even as his hand drifted into his waistcoat and produced a small wooden pipe with a narrow silver mouthpiece and a small, wide, flat bowl. He dipped the bowl into a pouch at his belt with practiced ease and then lit the tobacco from a candle on a nearby table.

"So," he said after a few puffs. "Where to begin."

"You mentioned your home," Gabrielle said. "The Shire?"

"Yes," Merry said with a grin. "Best place to start."

At that, both hobbits launched into a detailed description of their home land. Gabrielle was hard pressed to remember all the names and places. In spite of the rapid and florid way in which her two companions related the news of their homeland, and the strong bitter ale, Gabrielle managed to keep the more important points (to her) somewhat straight.

She learned about the adventures of one particular hobbit, by the name of Bilbo Baggins. How he and a company of Dwarves had managed to recover a vast treasure many years past. How in that adventure, the fortunate Bilbo had also managed, through sheer blind luck, to find a magical ring that was soon revealed as a Ring of Power, coveted by the Dark Lord Sauron, who had ruled Mordor until recently.

The tales wove in and out, describing various lands and people that Gabrielle had never heard about before. Places of beauty and places of darkness, wondrous and magical creatures, enormous battles, horrible sieges, all rolled off the happy tongues of the hobbits with an ease that both startled and amazed the young bard. She interposed questions when she was able to get one in between the alternating tales, but for the most part she simply sat and listened as they ate their meal.

Gabrielle noticed that they took turns in relating their tales. While one focused on dining, the other would speak until some point of conjecture arose and the two would argue politely back and forth before switching roles.

"And since the fall of Mordor," Merry finally said as he sat back from his plate. "I've been in charge of maintaining and translating the archives of the palace for a book I'm writing."

Pippin smiled. "Yes. And you were supposed to be back there some time ago, weren't you?"

"What?"

"You have to be back in the archives, right?" Pippin smirked.

"Ah, but I was under orders from Mister Strider," Merry replied shortly. "And those orders supersede any orders I might have previously had."

Gabrielle watched the confrontation as she nibbled on a piece of cheese.

"Well, you need to get back there, straight away. You're the one who told Michel Delving that the translations would be ready by midsummer, and it's two months travel back home at least, which means your time is getting short."

"Don't remind me." Merry replied. "But Strider also said I could take as long as I wished, and since he is the lord of the land, and the Mayor of Michel Delving is, well, a mayor." He shrugged. "I'm under no obligation."

Pippin was about to say something else, but Merry cut him off.

"Besides," He said shortly. "No one put a time limit on Mister Bilbo's 'Translations of the Elvish', so why should they be so pushy with me? It is a complete history of the kings of Eriador, after all. Do you know how many books and scrolls are down in those vaults?"

"Never bothered to look really," Pippin said with a smile.

"Well, there's mountains of them down there," Merry replied.

"Records?" Gabrielle perked up.

Merry nodded. "I've spent the last two years just helping get the place organized so you can find things, never mind translating everything. I'll get Michel Delving his book when I get it finished to my liking and not a moment before." He finished looking at Pippin.

"Like a library, right?" Gabrielle pressed.

Both hobbits looked at the young woman, suddenly realizing what she was driving at.

Merry looked at Pippin and offered a smug smile. Then he looked at Gabrielle. "Would you like a tour of the archives, Miss Gabrielle?"

"I would," Gabrielle replied. She yawned suddenly. "But I really need to get back to my friend."

"We understand," Pippin smiled. "Still, I hope we lived up to Strider's orders and provided a little entertainment for you this evening?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "I've heard so many names today. Who is Strider?"

The hobbits looked at one another and then, with blank expressions and monotone voices they said in unison. "His Majesty, the High King of Gondor, the Lord Aragorn."

Then they both laughed. "He hates it when we do that to him, doesn't he," Pippin chuckled.

"Every time." Merry replied, laughing in his own right.

"Aragorn," Gabrielle stopped. "You mean the king, himself?"

"Yes," Merry replied. "As I said, he was the one who asked us to accompany you to get something to eat, and provide a little pleasant diversion, since you seemed somewhat melancholy, you see."

"So you two know the king pretty well?" Gabrielle asked.

Both hobbits nodded their heads.

"We traveled with him some years ago," Pippin offered. "And watched him become king too, let me see, that was nigh on twenty years ago?"

Merry nodded. "Our cousin, Frodo was the real hero in that quest though. It was he that really made it possible for Aragorn to become king. Since then, the kingdom of Gondor has been as peaceful and prosperous as the ancient kingdoms of old."

Merry stood up from his place. "But, that is a tale for another time. I have to return." He stood up with a contented sigh. "Good dinner, Pip," he nodded. "See you back tomorrow for breakfast? I need to show Miss Gabrielle to her quarters."

"Absolutely," Pippin smiled.

"Miss Gabrielle?" Merry asked. "Ready?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Nice meeting you, Pippin."

"Nice meet you as well, Miss Gabrielle," Pippin smiled. "Good evening, Miss."

They left the rowdy establishment and made their way back toward the Healing House.

Gabrielle left the patient hobbit at the gate and went quickly inside to check on Xena. She lay on the bed, as before. One of the healers stood over her, wiping a cloth over her brow.

"How is she?" Gabrielle asked, feeling her mirth of the last few hours sink back into shadow.

"The same, My Lady," the young woman replied. "The King was here some time ago, but he had no luck awakening her. He said that he shall return on the morrow."

Gabrielle nodded and looked at the face of her friend, lying in a dream. She frowned as she studied Xena's features. They were tight, as if she were struggling against something deep within her own body, or perhaps in her mind.

The sensation of helplessness washed over her again, and her mood plummeted back to the level it had been when Merry had arrived. Suddenly, the idea of seeing a library of any kind held no appeal at all.

"If I may, My Lady," The healer said, noting Gabrielle's expression. "There is naught you can do here. And remaining as you are will not aid your friend, nor benefit you, I'd wager." She placed a reassuring hand on Gabrielle's arm.

"Take your leave. Our messengers will find you if anything changes."

"I don't want to be too far away," Gabrielle replied. "I need to be here if…" She let the words die on her lips as if afraid that uttering them would make them true.

The healer's expression hardened a little.

"That won't happen, love," she said firmly. Her clear dark eyes bored into Gabrielle's. "When I said she was unchanged, that was what I meant. She is unchanged. She might even be asleep, of sorts. It isn't a question of your friend dying, I think. It is merely a question of how long she will sleep."

Gabrielle's eyes widened slightly. "How do you know?"

"It was the words of the King, himself," she replied. "Your friend is feverish, yes, but she is more akin to sleeping than sick. It is the cause that eludes him, at present."

"But if she stays like this for too long, she will die." Gabrielle thought as she looked back at Xena. "Of starvation."

The healer seemed to read her expression and sighed. "Please, Miss. Worry about the present. She will be alright. Have hope."

Gabrielle nodded absently. She stepped quickly over to the bed and knelt down next to Xena. "I'll be back in the morning." She whispered. Then she smiled slightly. "Don't go anywhere."

She rose and left the chamber, returning to Merry who still waited patiently at the entrance.

A tall man in the garb of the citadel guard was speaking to Merry when she emerged. The little hobbit nodded agreeably and then the guard departed.

"What was all that?" she asked as she approached.

"Ah," Merry replied. "Just a messenger from the palace. Your quarters are ready."

"Quarters in the palace?" Gabrielle asked.

Merry rolled his eyes. "Good heavens!" he exclaimed. "Why ever would you want to stay there, with guards always watching your comings and goings, always sticking their noses into your business?"

"Not the palace," Gabrielle concluded.

"Of course not," Merry smiled. "Just as the secret to fine dining is knowing where to dine, so too, is the art of accommodations."

His smile widened. "There is an absolutely charming inn, near the last turn before you go up to the palace proper. "I told my big friend to make the arrangements for you, and pass the information on to the king, so?"

Instantly, Gabrielle felt the heaviness in her heart lighten again. There was something about this strange little man, and all the people she had met that made her comfortable. It was like living in a dream.

She paused for a moment. What if this was a dream?

She turned and looked out at the fields far below, and then back at the hobbit before her.

"What is it?" Merry asked expectantly.

Gabrielle shrugged. "Just another one of my wild theories. Which way is it?"

Frowning slightly, Merry gestured in the indicated direction and then led the way up towards a finely built pale brick structure that was the inn.

The room was spacious and comfortably furnished with an archway that led out onto a stone terrace which overlooked the city and the valley below. As she looked, she could see the people moving below her, going here and there about the daily business. The sun was setting in the western sky, bathing the whole of the city in deep reds and orange.

"It's been a long day, Miss," Merry said after a few moments.

She looked back at him and saw his understanding expression. "You've been through a lot and seen a lot. Things will be better tomorrow."

The numbness that Gabrielle was feeling settled upon her like a suffocating veil. She looked back at the hobbit and nodded mutely.

"Thanks for everything," she offered.

"It was my pleasure," Merry replied, smiling again. "Get some rest this evening, and I will call on you in the morning. Perhaps you would like to breakfast with Pippin and I in the morning?"

Gabrielle went to the bed and sat down, her expression melting, once again into melancholy.

"Sleep well, miss," Merry quietly closed the door behind him as he departed.

The shock and trauma of the past few days along with everything that she had seen began to finally assert itself in her mind, and the emotional tumult rose in waves. She fell to her side, curling up into a ball, weeping until there were no more tears for her to cry and she fell into a troubled sleep.

Merry paused in the hallway, just outside the door. He heard the sobs begin, and shaking his head, he made his way out of the inn, up the road and to the palace proper.

The guards let him pass, unmolested. All of Gondor knew of the Kings affinity for these particular Halflings. Even if their deeds in the War of the Ring had not made them heroes, that favor would have been enough.

Pippin was standing in one of the grand halls of the palace, speaking quietly with Aragorn.

The king turned to see the sullen hobbit and he smiled understandingly. "All well, Master Brandybuck?" he asked.

Merry shrugged. "She was weeping when I left."

Aragon smiled. "It's to be expected. She's had a hard road these past days."

"What about her friend?" Merry continued.

Aragorn sighed. "I have done what I can," he offered. "She seems to be in no danger. I just need to discover what has caused her unnatural sleep." He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. "What were you two able to learn?"

"Well," Pippin spoke up. "We learned that she and her companion are from a place known as Greece, though I've never heard of such a place. That there are kings in her realm, but no single one that rules over all. Her companion was a great warrior in her own right."

"She used the term, warlord, actually," Merry added. "And that she had a rather dark past before the two of them met."

"But that this Xena has turned over a new leaf, so to speak," Pippin interjected this time. "They've been wandering for nearly three years together, having various adventures. Some of them better than others, of course."

"That is to be expected," Aragorn nodded. "But what of this Xena?"

Merry shrugged. "The way I understood it, Xena has been obsessed with making amends for her past indescretions."

"And whatever this Xena's intentions, I feel sure that Miss Gabrielle is not here to do any harm," Pippin added.

Aragorn nodded. "That much I perceived when I beheld her. Was there anything else that you discovered?"

"Only that they were in the midst of a summer storm when they found themselves in the middle of the plains of Rohan," Merry said. "She has no idea how she and her friend arrived there. Then the bit about the Orc attack, and then, whatever Master Hallas spoke of."

Again, the King nodded his head. "And his impressions, and the impressions that Captain Breggolard have of Gabrielle also match yours, my friends. Regardless of her companions' intentions, I am convinced that we have naught to fear from Gabrielle."

"Well," Pippin sighed. "Thank goodness for that. I was never good at subterfuge like this."

"Not since Sam helped us with Mister Frodo," Merry nodded. "And then, it was Sam that was always around him, not us. I think I misjudged the poor fellow. I never should have chided him as I did after Mister Gandalf caught him eavesdropping."

Aragorn smiled. "Well, I think that you will not have to do this spying any longer."

"But there must be something we can do, Aragorn," Merry said. "She was weeping when I left her this evening. It tugs at my heart to see anyone so distraught, you see? And she isn't deserving of this, no matter what she's been through or her companion may or may not have done before coming here."

Aragorn placed a hand on either of the hobbits shoulders.

"Her tears are born of compassion," he said. "And there is little cure for that besides the awakening of her friend. What little we can do to lift her spirits, we will do, and I shall leave in your capable hands, but in the end, I think it is the well being of this Xena that will determine the mood in her heart."

"_One thing," the shadowy stranger said. "It is imperative that we keep a zero visibility profile. We go in and out, unsuspected and undetected. When we're finished, it'll look like a freak natural disaster."_

"_Ah," a second, almost silky male voice crooned. "My favorite kind of Op. Black." _

_The room was dark, almost hazy, as if the details did not want to reveal themselves. The figures moving about or lounging on the furniture were faceless vaguely human shapes, like a mixture of smoke and shade._

"_That's if we can get the equipment we need?" The first voice said as it turned its head to gaze at a third figure, who was seated at a desk or table, huddled over something in his massive fingers. He set it down and puffed a couple of times on a smoldering roll that he held in his teeth._

_The smoke wafted over her, and she smelled its acrid scent, strange, and yet so familiar._

"_Four hours," The big figure said. He had a reluctant smirk on his face. "They'll load it when they re-supply and refuel your ship."_

"_Four hours!" Gabrielle heard her own voice burst from her lips. _

"_You went from a couple of days to four hours?"_

_There was an underlying sense of anxiety that fueled a nervous energy building in her chest._

_The big shadow shrugged. "I'm good, what can I say?"_

"_This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Gabrielle snarled. "My best friend is stuck in some dungeon while you go from a couple of days to four hours!"_

_Dungeon? When was Xena locked in a dungeon?_

"_You better watch that mouth of yours, missy," The bigger shadow growled._

"_Or what!" Gabrielle shot back. All the pent up emotion was rushing out and there was no way for her to stop it. "After everything I told you! You sit here playing these games while they're doing, I don't know what, to my friend! You think I care what you'll do to me?" She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes and she shook her head, fists clenching. Then she turned and bolted from the room._

_The place outside the room was familiar to her. The same large, dark cavernous place, with the blue lights and the red waving beams that passed over her, but left no mark. The numerous faceless, amorphous shapes of other strangers undulating in the flashing illumination. She sensed, more than saw the movement off to one side, and her sense of anger flared again. She turned her gaze on the figure with glacial intensity._

_She felt a bitter smile pull at the corners of her mouth._

"_I just realized," she said in a venomous tone. "I can't go anywhere! I can't do anything! I'm stuck here in this place because you brought me here!" Her voice broke as the sobs burst out of her. She slammed her fist against the metal support beam and then turned her back to it, sliding to the ground._

_Brought her where? Who was that mysterious figure? What was this strange place? If only she could wave away the obscuring haze and see things clearly!_

The knifing pain in her skull catapulted her from sleep into painful wakefulness.

Gabrielle rolled over, nearly falling off the bed as she clutched her hands to either side of her head and tried to keep the pressure within from bursting her skull.

The next several days passed relatively uneventfully. Every night, Gabrielle retired to her simple lodgings. Every night, images and dreams plagued her mind. Then she would awake in the morning, haggard and weary, with pain throbbing in her skull as she went back to sit vigil with her best friend.

As for Xena, the injuries she had sustained in the attack were healing, however she still would not respond to anyone or anything. She remained motionless and unconscious.

The hobbits did what they could to distract the melancholy bard, but even the endless scrolls and books in the library only served to entertain Gabrielle temporarily.

At the end of a week, Xena had still not shown any conscious signs of recovery.

Gabrielle sat, as she always did, holding Xena's hand in her own and speaking to her quietly.

The anxieties of the past week, coupled with the restlessness of her sleep were beginning to show.

"I see all these things," she said quietly. "Or hear them. I can't imagine what they are, but I know they're real."

Gabrielle leaned forward and smiled, somewhat manically. "Did you know that last night, I actually dreamed I was flying? I was soaring through those hills, south of Cyerna, all the way until I reached the sea, and then." She leaned in closer as if to bestow a secret. "And then I went up. All the way up, Xena. I went past the sun, past the moon; I was flying among the stars." She smiled. "It was so beautiful, looking down at the world and seeing it slowly turning beneath me." She paused for a moment, blinking away the pain that her memory caused. She had almost gotten used to the discomfort that reminiscing brought with it. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth against the onslaught. "Maybe there's something in my memory that will help you, Xena," she continued.

The agony was almost overwhelming her, but the pushed against it, feeling it sting inside her skull like white hot needles.

"I went past the moon, out among the stars," she continued. "It seemed like forever and ever, and then I saw it."

She put her head down on the mattress and groaned, forcing her mind to wrap around the image in spite of the torture.

"I saw a city, Xena," she continued tightly. "An enormous city, floating among the stars. And boats floated among the stars, going to and from this city. Boats like you've never, never seen before."

The pain was a white hot fire behind her eyes now.

"I went into the city," she managed to gasp. "I went into..."

Suddenly, a soft, calming voice sliced painlessly through her torment.

"You cannot help your friend by harming yourself."

The voice was feminine, and somewhat husky as if the speaker feared that her voice might carry.

The pain vanished, and Gabrielle looked over her shoulder to see a woman, dressed in royal robes of blue and silver. She stood near the arch, one pale hand resting delicately against the stone. Her skin was like milk, and her long dark hair flowed past her shoulders and down her back. She wore a circlet of silver in her hair, and her deep blue eyes looked down at Gabrielle with gentle intensity.

She had the softest touch of a smile on her lips.

"I am Arwen," she said simply.

"Hi," Gabrielle blinked. It was as if she could perceive a soft white cleansing light, emanating from somewhere within the person before her. It was soothing and warm, and seemed to settle like a blanket over the room.

"Hello, Gabrielle," Arwen smiled. She floated into the room with an unnatural grace and seated herself next to the bed.

Gabrielle felt Arwen's eyes searching her right down to her soul. In the end, her smile remained.

"I understand your devotion to your friend," she said without preamble. "I understand it better than you may think."

Gabrielle looked down at Xena.

"However," Arwen continued. "You do not aid your friend by sickening yourself with lack of food and sleep."

"I've been eating," Gabrielle lied. "And sleeping."

"You have been eating far too little," Arwen corrected her. "This says something when you are in the company of hobbits. And you have been dreaming these past days. Dreaming things that have disturbed your rest."

She reached down and placed a pale hand on Xena's forehead.

"You must be strong," she continued, looking up at Gabrielle with a flash of steel in her blue eyes. "It would serve no one should you lie in the bed beside hers, afflicted with fever, or madness."

"There must be something I can do," Gabrielle shot back a bit too tersely.

The sharpness of her tone did not offend her visitor.

"Perhaps there is," Arwen answered. "But perhaps the only thing you can do is nothing?"

Gabrielle waved that suggestion aside before even considering it. "There are always options. Always different things that can be tried."

"Indeed," Arwen replied, smiling. "And sometimes one of those possibilities is to do nothing." She folded her hands in her lap as she sat back. "Besides, when you step away from a problem, sometimes the answer will present itself."

Gabrielle felt like she was being patronized a little and she didn't like it.

Another figure entered, one of the healers. She carried a small silver tray in her hand. Upon the tray were two small goblets.

Arwen took the cups from the healer and extended one to Gabrielle.

"Drink this," she instructed gently. "It will help you sleep, just as the healing properties will help sustain your friend."

Arwen then focused on gently feeding the drink to Xena. Once she was done, she looked up at Gabrielle who sat, eyeing the goblet with a hint of suspicion.

"Something concerns you?" Arwen asked, studying her closely.

Gabrielle shook her head slowly. "No. It's just something that I feel."

She winced as the memory lanced her mind again. "Every time I try and remember," she said angrily. "It's like someone is punishing me."

"Or protecting you," Arwen offered. "Oft will a parent strike the hand of the child reaching for the candle flame, one pain to ward off another."

Gabrielle was about to reply, when a distant booming sound reverberated from somewhere.

Both women paused, their eyes looking instinctively towards the ceiling.

Arwen's eyes then turned to the nearby open window.

"Strange," she said thoughtfully. "The sky is clear, and yet, that sounded like thunder."

Gabrielle slowly rose to her feet, the drink forgotten in her hand.

"That didn't sound like thunder to me," she said slowly.

She turned and exited the house, moving quickly up the remaining avenue to the palace grounds. Her eyes were locked on the sky above. She moved down the long promenade towards the perilous drop off with her eyes always looking up.

Arwen followed right behind her.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

Gabrielle shrugged, never taking her eyes off the vast expanse of blue.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I just have this feeling."

She stopped when the strange echoing boom reverberated across the sky again, only this time, Gabrielle could tell the direction. Her head snapped around and her eyes locked on the distant heavens.

Arwen followed her gaze, staring up into the sky. "I see nothing."

"I know," Gabrielle said, holding a finger up. "But it came from that way."

They were facing south, looking up past the spires of the citadel of Minas Tirith and the crown of the mountain into the endless blue expanse of sky beyond.

The two of them backed slowly along the sprawling grand promenade

"What is that?" Arwen asked suddenly.

Gabrielle couldn't see anything.

"What?" she asked. Another ominous boom echoed from the distance.

Arwen pointed. "There. Something falling from the sky."

"I can't see it," Gabrielle replied, feeling frustrated.

Suddenly, she began to make out a tiny wisp of something high above the mountains. The trail was deep gray, almost black, and it was screaming as it approached.

"What is that?" Gabrielle asked in shock. She squinted against the glare and tried to discern the object's shape.

Whatever the ballistic object was, it was dropping at great speed, and coming towards the summit of the mountain.

The two of them began backing away more out of concern than to get a better view.

Suddenly, Gabrielle felt a firm hand grasp her arm and stop her movement.

"Have a care," Arwen said.

Turning about, Gabrielle discovered that she was standing near the edge of a precipice that plummeted several thousand feet towards the first ring of the city.

The vertigo overrode her sudden curiosity and she stepped to the side with Arwen, away from the perilous drop.

The two women fixed their eyes on the descending object again.

Gabrielle could make out the angular profile of the thing as it approached. It was triangular in appearance, both from the front and in design along its long axis, at least as far as Gabrielle could discern.

"I can see someone within!" Arwen exclaimed.

Gabrielle glanced quickly at Arwen and back again. She couldn't see anyone.

"A woman sits within," Arwen continued. "She looks terrified!"

"How can you see inside that thing?" Gabrielle asked as the whine of the approaching object increased in volume.

There was a puff of pale white smoke from the rear of the object, and then a subtle coughing roar. The front of the thing rose slightly as if whoever sat within were trying to avoid colliding with the mountain.

"It's a sky boat," Gabrielle gasped, even though the revelation caused her pain.

"Sky boat?" Arwen asked.

"Like in my dream," Gabrielle replied.

Another loud boom and the whine increased before popping and failing again. The thing was heading straight for them.

"Run!" Arwen shouted, pulling desperately at Gabrielle's arm.

The young bard was rooted in place, her eyes fixed on the strange craft, even as it came at her like a juggernaut.

The high pitched whine carried across the vast distance to their ears, like an agonizing scream. The sky boat grew into an enormous, almost bat like shade of gray and black and then, in a blast of noise and air that knocked the two women to the stone ground, it was past them.

Guards scrambled to posts, calling orders and focusing upon the strange intrusion. Weapons were drawn, and trumpets sounded.

Gabrielle stumbled towards the precipice, her hands grasping the stone as she leaned out, heedless of the danger, and watched in fascination as the craft sped across the distant fields.

"What is that?" Gabrielle asked, pointing down at the cluster of structures straddling the river far below.

"That is Osgiliath," Arwen replied. "The Lord Faramir, my husband's steward, resides there."

Gabrielle looked back up at the distant object.

"That thing is heading right for it," she said fearfully.

Even as they watched, the front of the ship began to lift again.

"It's trying to avoid the city!" Gabrielle said, squeezing the unyielding stone.

Arwen was at her side instantly, her eyes wide with fright and amazement.

They watched, breathlessly as the strange vehicle fell towards Minas Tirith's satellite city. Slowly, the ship began nosing up and to the side of the city.

"Come on, come on," Gabrielle whispered as if she would extend her will to lift the craft out of harms way.

Arwen smiled in relief. "It's going to miss Osgiliath!" she exclaimed. Almost as soon as she said the words, the ship lurched and sliced through the spire on the royal residence. Then it seemed to jump up from the impact and roll to the side before righting itself and plowing into the fields on the opposite side of the river, just beyond the last farmstead.

Gabrielle cried out in horror as earth and stone went up in a belching cloud. The rumble of the impact could be heard from their distant perch.

Gabrielle looked back towards the palace and saw dozens of guards running to various posts.

"There it is!" Arwen cried.

Gabrielle looked back at the small settling cloud of debris and saw the vessel, nose first in the soft earth with smoke belching from the rear.

"What is it?" Arwen breathed a few moments later.

Another footstep sounded behind them, and the two women turned to find Aragorn approaching.

He looked down at the distant wreck.

"What has happened?"

Gabrielle looked down at the ship, lying in the tall grasses beyond Osgiliath. Something inside her was screaming to her that this was important, like the images in her dreams, only more so.

When she turned back, she found Aragorn with the arm protectively wrapped about Arwen's shoulders.

Even as they all watched the scene below, a cluster of men on horses galloped out from the city of Osgiliath, towards the strange wreck.

A short while later, Arwen said that she could see the men of Gondor escorting numerous other figures out of the conveyance.

"Are any of them dressed strangely?" Gabrielle asked suddenly. "In greens and grays that mimic the shadows of a forest?"

Arwen studied the growing clot of people and shook her head.

"I can't explain it," she said, turning to Aragorn. "But that object and those people are important!"

"Important in what way, Lady?" Aragorn asked.

"I don't know," Gabrielle confessed. "I just know that they are!"

The two of them could see the frustration building in their young guest again.

"Peace, Gabrielle," Arwen said gently, placing a hand on the young girl's shoulder. She looked up at Aragorn and nodded her head.

"I will send Master Peregrin to Osgiliath, and have him return with the people from that craft." Aragorn said gently.

Gabrielle looked back down at the distant smoldering wreck below. Her mind was reeling between awe and shock, accompanied by a nagging, painful sense of familiarity.

"Gabrielle?" Arwen asked.

The young bard looked back and smiled. "I just know that something about the people in that drop ship is important."

"Drop ship?" Arwen asked. "That thing is called a drop ship?"

Gabrielle nodded automatically. Then she perked up suddenly. Granted, the facts all added up, but the actual term was completely alien to her. Still, it had rolled from her lips as if she had used the term in the past.

The most fascinating part was that she had felt no pain at that small revelation.

"_Do not open this unless you have the utmost need. Can you accept that responsibility and truly honor it?"_

The image of the priest suddenly exploded before her mind's eye. He was tall and thin, with a hawkish nose and mesmerizing gray green eyes. His lips were curled in a smile even as he handed the small box to Gabrielle.

"There's something I need to look into," she said suddenly. She excused her self from the king and queen's company and ran back towards her lodging, outside the palace.

On her way out, she met Pippin who was searching for the king.

The two exchanged rushed pleasantries as Gabrielle jogged back towards the inn.

Inside her traveling bag, she found the small beaten wooden box.

On the top of the container was a simple circular engraving of a letter L, deeply etched into the thin wood with incredible detail.

As she turned the box over in her fingers, studying it closely, with deeply renewed curiosity, she heard the contents within rattle softly.

"What are you?" she asked the box aloud.

She turned and ran back to the healing house.

When she arrived, she found Arwen standing over Xena's bed.

"There is something dark within her," she heard the elf lady say.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked.

Arwen looked at her and her expression was grim.

"We have done all we can, Lady," a healer said gently. He turned and looked down at Xena. "If she is to awaken, it must be she who accomplishes it. We can do no more."

Gabrielle looked down at the box in her hands. "Only in your most desperate hour," she whispered to herself. As she looked at the box, she discovered that it had inadvertently been turned upside down in her hands, and the graven L was now inverted. As she looked at it, her eyes went wide.

"Look at this," she said, beginning to shake with excitement. "Gods, how could I have been so stupid!"

Arwen stepped forward and looked down at the box in Gabrielle's fingers.

"I am unfamiliar with this symbolism," she admitted. "What does this mean?"

"Held this way," Gabrielle said excitedly. "It resembles a letter 'L'."

She turned the box over. "And this way, it resembles a number seven."

"_Welcome to Old Number Seven…"_

The deep voice thundered from the unbidden depths of her memory accompanied by the familiar lance of pain.

"Old Number Seven," Gabrielle whispered. She looked up at the curious eyes of the queen and then moved to sit at Xena's side.

"_What does the 'L' stand for?" _she remembered asking the strange priest.

"_Life, Mistress. Life"_ Brother Mavon had replied.

She looked back up at the two others in the room, then at the motionless form of Xena lying before her. She wrenched the top of the box open and turned it over above the table.

Two objects fell to the table with a soft clatter.

Gabrielle opened her eyes cautiously and saw the items before her. One was a simple, metallic cylinder, nearly as long and thick as her middle finger, with a tiny dark plunger at the top. The second was a small, hard, clear piece of material, like glass, and yet not like it.

"What is it?' Arwen asked, stooping closer to examine the objects.

Gabrielle shook her head, glancing back into the box to see if anything else remained.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I was told that the objects in this box would help me if I was in trouble." She shook her head as she reached for the piece of glass. "But I don't see how these can help me."

Her voice fell to silence as she held the clear piece of glass in her fingers.

The first thing she noted was that it was incredibly light, and did not have the characteristic coolness of glass. She could see white markings on the back side, but nothing else. Frowning, she turned the card over, and her eyes went wide with shock.

"That's you," Arwen said in surprise as the two of them glanced at the small image imprinted upon the smooth surface. All around the image were tiny letters, written in a language that none of them could decipher. At the bottom was a series of lines, some thicker than others, creating a strange pattern. It was that pattern that held Gabrielle transfixed for a moment.

Then the world behind her eyes exploded in a cloud of blinding white pain. The memories that had been held back in her mind, flooded out, washing over her with relentless agony. Dimly, she felt herself cry out and then the world faded from her mind, vanishing in a cloud of unending white.

43


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"A true test of the soldier's mettle is their ability to react positively in the face of unexpected adversity. The properly trained soldier will always react in a way that will ultimately turn the tides of any unexpected disaster, creating advantage where only defeat was anticipated…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

…ALL SHIPS ALERT….MOUNT ESTONES, ON THE ISLAND OF MARTIUS HAS RECENTLY BECOME ACTIVE, THREATENING THE LOCAL POPULATION…ALL AVAILABLE SHIPS ARE HEREBY DISPATCHED TO THE TAR-ANTILLES SYSTEM TO ASSIST IN COMPLETE EVACTUATION OF THE ISLAND POPULATION AND/OR EVACUATION OF THE POPULATION OF ALL COASTAL CITIES…RESPONSE BEACON SEVEN-FIVE UPON RECEIPT AND PROCEED AT BEST SPEED TO TARGET…

"The island is floundering, boss!" Felix shouted over the deafening rumble. "This eruption's going to send the entire landmass to the bottom! We gotta evac now!"

His eternally youthful features were constricted in an expression of concern and horror.

He like the rest of the team was covered in soot and ash as the broken peak of Mt. Estones belched its fiery contents into the upper atmosphere.

Tyrion Darquefyre looked across the ruins of the village, now a foot deep in gray ash. The stuff bounced and rippled as the earth beneath their feet shook incessantly. His dark eyes scanned the hazy destruction.

"We got one more sweep!" he shouted over the roar. "If that magma flow hits here, it'll fry everyone alive!"

"Including us!" Mavon's voice bellowed through Tyrion's earpiece.

Tyrion stood near a fourth, massive man. Normally, his skin was a deep coffee color, but at the moment, they were all indistinguishable covered in the same uniform gray. His arms and legs were knotted with muscle beneath the fit of his uniform. His weapon, a compact MP 9 assault charger looked small, almost like a child's toy, in his massive hands.

Bolts of unholy green lightning flashed amidst the cloud of volcanic gasses, and an oily rain began to fall.

"It's gonna go real soon, baby!" The big man shouted. Of the four of them, his deep voice had no problem resonating over the sounds of Mother Nature's destructive fury.

"Mavon, check the main administrative building in town, the rest with me!" Tyrion ordered

He waved his team forward, and the three of them began a hasty home by home search of the dilapidated structures, hunting for anyone that may have been missed during the main evacuation. As it turned out, Tyrion's hand held life signs monitor found half a dozen people, all huddled inside an old granary silo.

Tyrion tapped his communicator headset. "Lead to Mavon!" he called over the din.

"Mavon! What's your status?"

A voice crackled over his com. "I've got twenty five in the educational center, in the center of town!" Mavon's voice was tight with the stress. "Think Nicky can pop over and give us a lift?"

"Stand by!" Tyrion shouted as he stumbled. He tapped the com again. "Nicky!"

"Go ahead?" the soft feminine voice replied.

"Mavon needs a lift!" Tyrion barked. "Lock his signal and execute emergency dust off at his location, then come for us!"

"Gonna cut it close, boss!" Silas added.

"Mave's got twenty five, we got six!" Tyrion replied. "You know the drill. Big groups go first!"

"I'm rolling," Nicky's voice replied. "Phoenix out!"

"Mavon!" Tyrion shouted again. "Did you get that? Your ride's on the way!"

"Roger that!" Mavon shouted back.

Tyrion burst into the hollow chamber and found them, clothed in torn rags and also covered in soot.

"Everyone!" he shouted. "We're here to get you out! Follow me!" He noted that two of the people were suffering from injuries, the soot on their bodies a darker gray from mingling with blood.

"Silas!" he shouted over his com unit. "I need you in here, now!"

"On my way!" the deep voice boomed back in his ear.

"Mavon, what's your status?"

"We're almost loaded up!" Mavon's voice sounded strained. "Will be inbound to your position in three minutes!"

"Magma flow is one klik away, moving in fast!" Felix added as he wiped the ash covered screen of his hand scanner. "Can we go now, please?"

"Absolutely!" Tyrion replied as Silas burst into the room. He took one injured person on each arm and the group began moving towards the center of town.

"Seven to Wayward Traveler!" Tyrion tapped his com again.

"Go for Wayward!" Another voice replied calmly.

"Are you clear?" Tyrion called out.

"Seven, Wayward," the voice replied. "We are over capacity but we are airborne!"

Tyrion cursed as the earth threatened to topple him again. "Understood, Vinny! Continue out of the area! Mavon? Talk to me!"

"Thirty seconds!" Mavon's voice came back over the speaker.

"Nicky!" Tyrion called over the com. "Bring her in! Dust off on the East side of the grain silo!"

"Got it, honey!" The female voice answered. "Coming to you!"

Felix looked up at the sprawling face of the mountain. The entire side seemed to be a mass of flowing fire, heading down towards them at terrifying speed.

"Ah, dammit!" Felix blurted suddenly.

Silas looked up at him. "What?"

"I forgot the meat sticks," Felix grinned wide, hiding his fear with the forced levity.

"Juno!" Tyrion called again. "Stan! What's your status?"

Another voice replied quickly. "Final load and we are airborne, heading for Antelles!"

"Understood!" Tyrion replied. He felt a touch of relief. Of the three drop ships under his command, it looked like all of them would get clear in time.

The party stumbled into a small clearing behind the teetering silo, the ground was level and smooth, stretching all the way out towards the fiery side of the mountain. The river of lava was gurgling and bubbling across the plowed field, lighting anything that protruded from the ash. Waves of heat washed over them, like the wind of a blast furnace. They stopped along side the silo and waited, eyes scanning the thick air above them. Soon, another high pitched howl could be heard over the roar of the volcano. The ship burst through the smoke and debris like something alive. The angular shape of Tyrion's ship, the Phoenix Fire, reared up on its tail as it slowed and then settled to the ground.

As if the presence of the ship offended the mountain, the magma seemed to pickup speed, flowing hungrily towards the intruders.

"Move! Move! Move!" Tyrion ordered, and they all ran towards the open hatch. Behind them, the nearby abandoned farmstead burst into flame as the magma touched it. Masonry began to explode, and flames licked ravenously at support beams. The structure groaned under the weight and slowly began to fold itself into the conflagration.

Tyrion waived everyone towards his ship as he watched the glowing wall of death move towards him. He saw the frames of a hover bike and an agricultural collector begin to melt or vanish in fiery puffs. The nearby out buildings seemed to sag, falling back and dissolving into smearing messes on the surface of a river of fire.

"Move your asses!" He bellowed with just a touch of panic. He reached out and wheeled a young woman around to face the ship, breaking the spell that the flow had cast upon her.

She blinked once, and then screamed as she bolted for the ship.

The remaining refugees stumbled up the ramp into the cabin followed by Tyrion and Silas.

Suddenly, everything fell silent except of the howl of the Phoenix's engines. The world went completely still. Tyrion and Silas stopped, looking back through the choking gasses at the billowing smoke of the mountain and the flowing magma.

"Oh, man!" Silas shouted. Then the two of them froze as the fiery red at the top of the mountain began to change to an unholy bluish green.

"Here we go!" Felix called from deeper within the ship.

"What the hell is that?" Tyrion shouted.

"That ain't normal!" The big man shouted back. He turned his head towards the open hatch to the flight cabin. "Let's get the fuck out of here!"

Tyrion slipped the control for the hatch and the thick plate slid back and locked into place with a hiss.

A tremor began somewhere deep beneath the ground, growing quickly until the earth jumped and shook as if in rage.

Passengers and crew alike stumbled, grasping for anything they could find to keep from losing their footing in the cramped quarters. "Secure stations!" he shouted. "Strap in! Nicky, get us the hell out of here!"

Nicolla, strapped into the flight couch, yanked back hard on the stick and jammed the throttles to full power. The Phoenix Fire vaulted skyward, moving away from the mountain as fast as her engines would propel her.

The crowd of people in the main cabin did the best they could to steady themselves. Some of them teetered and stumbled back, pinning the rescuers against the rear bulkhead. Others fell into waiting seats, grasping loved ones in an attempt to keep them from toppling over.

The island exploded in a massive volcanic blast. The shock wave nearly knocked the Phoenix out of the sky.

"All ships! All ships! Watch for debris!" Tyrion shouted as he checked the monitor and saw the massive billowing cloud of destruction rushing up to meet them.

"Climb, baby! Climb!" He bellowed. "Wayward Traveler! Juno! Climb clear and hang on! First shockwave is approaching! Watch for debris!"

He looked out the view port at the other three ships all vaulting for the safety of sky. Fiery death began to rain down among them.

"Stay sharp, everyone!" Tyrion called out, switching to the group frequency.

The ship lurched and shook as the shock wave of the blast caught up with them. Nicky put the Phoenix into a steep dive, trying to get clear of the molten debris flying around them, always angling away from the devastation.

"Break! Break! Break!" Tyrion ordered, and the three ships scattered, clawing for the safety.

A chunk of molten debris impacted the side of the Juno, a slightly smaller version of Tyrion's ship. The port side air foil snapped off and the ship rolled lazily onto its back before plummeting in a fiery stream, towards the ocean below.

"Juno!" Tyrion called over the com. He switched the frequency to the central operations channel.

"Seven to control, mayday, mayday! Juno is going down! I Repeat! Juno is going down! Coordinates thirty nine, forty-six West by eighty nine, fifteen North! Acknowledge?"

The controller's voice came through, heavy with regret.

"Message received, Phoenix. Be advised, we have no assets available. I repeat, no assets."

"What?" Tyrion cried in outrage. "I got four people and a full boat of refugees down there!"

He disconnected the channel in disgust and switched back to the group frequency. "Wayward, we're going in! Head for Antelles!"

The acknowledgement came back immediately, and the Phoenix arced away from the formation.

Tyrion clawed his way back into the crowded passenger compartment.

"Rig for water rescue!" he shouted. "Everyone move as far forward as you can!" He gestured towards the forward bulkhead. "Stay clear of the hatch!"

Silas and Mavon went to the hatch while Felix strapped into a large harness that attached to a cable which extended from a retractable boom, just beneath the upper edge of the door.

"What's up?" Mavon asked. He was a tall man, and thinly built, dressed in combat armor that was only a little less soiled since he had spent some time inside during the disaster. His hawkish features were currently covered in a thin layer of soot and grime.

"Juno just caught some F.O.D. and went in!" Tyrion said. "Control has nothing to get them with!"

"Boss?" Nicky's voice was tight. "I got something really freaky on sensors!"

"I'm on n it!" Mavon volunteered. He jumped past Tyrion and squeezed his way through the passengers towards the cockpit. After a few moments, his voice came over the headset again. "I don't know what that is, boss! Reading like an EM disturbance, but it's off the fraggin scale!"

"Everyone!" Tyrion shouted. "This might get a little rough! Everyone try and secure yourselves as best you can!"

The refugees complied. The Phoenix Fire, Tyrion's ship, had space for twenty four at most. At the moment, he had nearly twice that.

An arm settled on Tyrion's shoulder, and he turned to see an old lady, covered in soot and ash, looking up at him with clear, blue eyes.

"I have something for you," she said in a kindly tone.

"Madam," Tyrion said with quick politeness. "Whatever you have, it can wait a few minutes."

"No, it cannot," she insisted, opening his gloved hand and setting something in it. "Consider it payment for your actions."

Tyrion smiled politely and dropped the objects – there were two of them – into his pocket. At the moment, he had no time to argue with senile old women. He could always return the items later, once they landed at Antilles.

Nicolla, up in the pilots couch, saw the floating debris and people in the water below. Her brilliant green eyes spied fifteen in the water, but not all of them were moving.

"I have them!" she reported. "In position!"

Tyrion hit the release and Felix swung out on the boom, which lowered him quickly down to the water.

One by one, waterlogged survivors from the crash were hauled back up into the passenger compartment.

"Mavon?" Tyrion called on the com. "Got an update for me?"

"Stand by a second," Mavon replied. The small screen was filled with the image of objects falling all about them. "I have all kinds of shit around us! Wait a second! I got something else, at surface level! Speed," His eyes went wide. "Six hundred knots! I think we got us a tidal wave building along with that freaky energy disturbance! E.T.A. eight minutes!"

"Felix!" Tyrion called. "How many more?"

"Three!" Felix replied. He reached the top of the boom and handed in an elderly lady, dazed and soaked, but alive.

Felix hit the release on his harness, and the brake on the spool disengaged. With a cry of exhilaration, he plunged into the water below.

Tyrion winced when he hit the water. "That is one crazy son of a bitch!"

Silas smiled as he helped the survivor out of the way.

Felix came up two more times. "The last one's dead!" he announced.

"Incoming Tidal Surge!" Mavon called over the com. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

Silas stepped to the hatch while Felix began undoing the hook on his safety harness. As the Phoenix drifted up and away, his eyes went wide in horror.

The child couldn't have been more than five or six years old. She came floating out from behind a large piece of debris.

"One more in the water!" Felix shouted, slapping the cutoff for the winch brake. He leapt from the hatch dropping forty feet to the ocean below.

Tyrion tried to stop him, but missed as he watched his man plummet into the water.

"I really hate it when he does that!" Tyrion cursed again, watching him swim towards the hapless victim.

"Nicky!" Tyrion shouted. "Drop us in close and ready the boosters!"

"Boosters?" Mavon shouted in shock. "Are you fucking nuts?"

"Nicky, set for five degree escape angle and a ten second burn!" Tyrion continued, ignoring Mavon's outburst.

Nicolla smiled as she understood the plan. Her fingers flew over the controls.

"We're set!"

Felix clawed his way through the choppy sea. He saw the child, wrapped in an oversized life vest, a small girl, about five years of age, crying in terror as she bobbed on the waves.

"It's alright!" Felix called to her. "I'm coming!"

He got up next to the child and hugged her to him, wrapping a safety line about her.

"There we go," he said cheerfully. He looked up and his eyes went wide with horror. Coming at him was a massive wall of water.

"Surf's up, Master Chief!" he called. "Time to go!"

He looked down into a pair of big terrified brown eyes and smiled. "Hang on, sweetie," he smiled. "We're going to go for a little ride!"

Tyrion and Silas watched as Felix reached the child and wrapped his arms about the small form. He gave a single wave.

"Reel him in!" Tyrion ordered. "Nicky! Get us out of here! Hit the booster on my command only!"

"Gotta go! Gotta go!" Mavon called from the Nav station.

Tyrion leaned out the hatch and looked behind them at the massive wall of water hurtling toward them.

Something akin to panic grasped at his heart. "Son of a bitch."

The Phoenix lifted for the sky, snatching Felix and his cargo from the water. The cable groaned in protest as it drew the man closer.

"Nearly there!" Tyrion said anxiously.

Felix floated before the hatch. Silas reached out and hauled him in. The hatch slammed shut behind him.

"Go baby!" Silas shouted.

"Nicky! Hit it!" Tyrion shouted as he put his back to the rear bulkhead.

"Hold your lunches, boys!" Nicolla replied and she hit the boosters.

There was a tremendous roar as the Phoenix blasted away from the area, barely escaping the wall of approaching water.

"Seven to Control!" Tyrion called over his headset. "Be advised, the eruption has produced a massive tidal surge approaching the eastern shore of the primary continent! We are also detecting a wave of unknown energy accompanying the surge; readings are in the high end of the electro magnetic spectrum!"

The image of the controller faded out in a blur of static before refocusing again.

"Understood, Seven," the controller replied. "Local governments have already been notified and evacuations are underway."

The Phoenix Fire jostled and trounced under the acceleration. The passengers held onto anything they could find to stabilize them.

"Mach two and accelerating!" Nicky's voice cried over the cacophony.

"What the hell is that thing?" Mavon suddenly shouted. "It's speeding up!"

"It can't be!" Nicky protested.

"What's happening up there?" Tyrion shouted.

"Boss! Whatever that wave is, it's accelerating to catch us!"

"It's what?"

"It's accelerating!" Mavon shouted again. "And I'm showing less than one percent of energy dissipation as the wave expands!"

"That's impossible!" Nicky shouted as the ship jolted again.

"Don't tell me!" Mavon replied. "Tell that! Speed is still increasing!"

"Can we make land before it hits?" Tyrion called.

"Negative, boss!" Mavon replied.

"Nicky!" Tyrion ordered. "Take us ballistic! Break sphere! Break sphere!"

"Understood!" Nicolla replied.

"Belay that!" Mavon countered. "No time! Wave is on our six, twelve thousand yards and closing! Impact in eight, seven, six…"

The coms began hissing in protest. "our….thr….t…"

"Mavon?" Tyrion shouted. "Mave!"

He took one step towards the flight deck and then the entire world vanished in a blinding blue green flash. The ship seemed to flip completely over and all the lights went out. Everyone not seated was flung upwards and then slammed back onto the deck with painful authority.

"Mavon!" Tyrion shouted again. He tapped his com headset furiously. "Nicky! Report!"

The compartment came back into focus, bathed in the deep amber of the emergency chemical lights.

Cursing elaborately, Tyrion half stumbled, half crawled towards the hatch to the flight deck.

The hatch failed to open as he approached. He reached into the emergency access hatch and began pumping the small hydraulic release as quickly as he could.

The ship jolted violently and the whining cry of air sliding across the outer surfaces increased in volume. The Phoenix Fire was plummeting toward the ocean.

He slid his fingers between the edge of the hatch and the bulkhead. He heaved the hatch to the side and was blinded by the brilliant light of a clear sky beyond the transparent hatch.

"I got shit!" Mavon protested. "The systems are completely down! I can't reboot it!"

"I got a dead stick!" Nicolla cried back. "Flight computer is out…NAV, HUD, I got nothing!"

"Refire the engines!" Tyrion shouted as he tumbled into the cockpit.

"Oh, I never would have thought of that!" Nicolla shot back angrily as she wrestled with the controls.

"We are at forty three thousand feet and falling fast!"

"What?" Tyrion shouted. "How the hell did we get so high?"

"I'm more worried about staying up here right now!" Nicolla replied.

Tyrion staggered to the engineering console and tried to activate the diagnostic terminal. The screens remained ominously black.

"Backup power is out too!" Mavon offered as the ship bucked beneath them. "That was one hell of an EMP blast that hit us!"

Tyrion dropped to the deck, wrestling with the access panel beneath the console. He felt the ship lurch dangerously to one side.

"Keep it steady!" He shouted. "We end up in a flat spin and it's all over!"

"Better give me something then!" Nicolla shouted back. "I'm barely holding with the fly by wire system! I need power assist or we're dead!"

"Working on it!" Tyrion bellowed. He began unplugging and cross wiring circuit after circuit.

Suddenly, one of Nicolla's boards flickered to life. "Keep going! Keep going!" She encouraged. "Twenty five thousand feet and dropping fast!"

"Come on!" Tyrion growled to himself. "Come on you oversized bucket of bolts!"

"Power assist is up!" Nicolla cried triumphantly. "Flight controls responding!"

"Yes!" Tyrion bellowed. "What's the air speed?"

"Three eighty-five and dropping!" Nicolla replied. "Give me some engines or we're going to stall!"

"Nose her down!" Tyrion ordered. "Get some more speed! Try and level out at ten thousand!"

Nicolla shook her head. "Okay! Hang on to something!"

The Phoenix Fire's nose dropped to a nearly vertical position, and the ship plummeted towards the surface.

"Mavon!" Tyrion shouted. "Cross wire the life support chemical batteries to the engines! Let's see if we can jump start this tub!"

Mavon ducked beneath his console. "On it!"

"Twenty thousand feet!" Nicolla reported. "Whatever you're going to do, do it fast!"

"Got it!" Mavon shouted.

"Prefire sequence up!" Tyrion added a moment later. "Try and start engine one!"

"Fifteen thousand!" Nicolla shouted. "Initiating startup on one!"

There was a strained whine and then a sputtering rumble. The ship's vibration shifted subtly.

"One is spooling!" Nicolla reported. "Nose is coming up!"

Tyrion pulled himself up and fastened the harness on the seat at the engineering console. When he looked up, he was amazed to see land approaching, not an endless expanse of ocean.

"What the hell?"

The last layer of clouds vanished. In front of him, he could see a single massive stony hill, rising from the banks of a long silver river. Beyond were smooth grassy plains that stretched out to another distant wall of dark mountains.

His ship was heading right for the solitary hill.

"Get over that!" Tyrion ordered, as if his words would make it so.

"I'm trying!" Nicolla shouted angrily.

As if in slow motion, the nose slowly began to rise. The engine coughed in protest.

"Get over that settlement!" Tyrion shouted.

"Eight thousand! Seventy-five hundred! Seven thousand feet!" Nicolla's voice rang with rising desperation. "Engine is over critical! I'm going to flame out!"

As the nose came up, they suddenly saw structures built just below the summit. A single large shelf of rock jutted out from a massive central courtyard, covered in fountains and gardens. Below, figures scattered in terror, like insects seen through a magnifier.

In a flash they were past it. The three of them let out a spontaneous cheer of relief as the Phoenix Fire continued down towards the waiting plains.

"Fuck, that was close!" Mavon cried.

Then they saw the second cluster of buildings straddling the river.

"Oh hell," Nicolla moaned.

"Leapfrog the buildings!" Tyrion shouted.

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Nicolla retorted. "Five thousand feet! Four thousand!"

Nicolla continued her ominous countdown as the cluster of dwellings grew before their eyes.

The ship shuddered and there was a falling whine from off to his right.

"Engine out!"

"Not the buildings, not the buildings," Tyrion thought desperately. He knew that it would be the destruction of his ship and countless lives if they struck that cluster of structures. "Come on baby!" He willed his ship to rise. The needle like spire of some domed structure rushed forward to meet them.

"Get over those towers!"

"Sorry honey!" Nicolla replied. "Only get one miracle a day and you just had it!"

A tall needle like shaft of steel approached them like a blade, ready to slice the ship in two.

"Oh shit!" he whispered.

"Better grab hold of something!" Nicolla cried.

The Phoenix Fire blasted through the protuberance with a horrible scrapping crash. Sparks exploded from the cobbled circuits, the few screens they had revived went black, and then they were beyond the settlement with nothing but bare rolling plains rushing up to greet them.

"All hands!" Tyrion roared at the top of his lungs. "Brace! Brace! Br…"

The long stems of grass below seemed to reach out to them, then there was a terrible flash, and the world went dark.

The first thing he smelled was the acrid scent of burning electronics. At the same moment, he became acutely aware that his head was pounding. Then something sharp prodded his shoulder.

"He is awakening," a strange voice said.

Tyrion reflexively waived his hand upward, warding off the intrusive sensation. When he finally managed to open and focus his eyes, some of his pain was overcome by confusion.

There was a man standing before him. His hair and beard were long and the color of spun gold. His eyes were bright and clear. He was dressed in a combination of leather and chain mail. His cloak was a deep forest green, clasped at his neck with a shining silver broach, and held a sword at his chest. A sword of all things!

Upon the leather breastplate was embossed the silvery image of a tree surrounded by seven four pointed stars. It was an emblem he had never seen before.

"Mind pointing that sticker somewhere else?" Tyrion asked thickly. His hands came up in the universal gesture of surrender. "We're not here for a fight."

"Who are you?" The man demanded.

Tyrion's eyes drifted about the compartment. He saw another figure, stooped over the form of Nicolla, slumped in the pilots couch, and a third, examining the limp figure of Mavon.

"Nicky?" Tyrion called. "Nicky?" He struggled to get his feet beneath him despite the weapon pointed at his chest.

"Stay!" The man demanded.

"Listen!" Tyrion hissed angrily. "This is my ship, and these are my people! Now you can stick me with that thing, or you can get out of my way, your choice!"

His eyes locked with the stranger, and after a few moments, the man lowered his weapon.

Tyrion pushed past him and staggered down into the flight station.

"Hey, Nicky?" he said gently as he probed her neck and head for injuries, then he gently leaned her back. "Hey, hey, come on now."

Nicolla groaned.

"That's my girl," Tyrion smiled.

Nicolla's face was a mask of red, the result of a gash on her forehead. Her eyes fluttered open, fixing on him with bleary recognition. "Hi there, Master Chief," she said thickly. "Are we down?"

"We're down," Tyrion smiled. "You did it."

"Not one of my better landings," Nicolla breathed.

Tyrion looked up at the stranger, his sword still in his hand.

"My people are injured," he said with just a hint of anger. "Help me get them out of here and I'll answer all your questions!"

A second man, similarly attired, stepped up next to the first one, and they had a quick, quiet discussion.

The first man nodded and sheathed his weapon. "Very well. Leave your weapons behind and come with us."

Tyrion released the harness on Nicolla's seat and gently pulled her out of the chair. She groaned in pain. Instantly, Tyrion saw the odd angle of her right leg and the bloody protuberance just below the knee. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"It's okay," Tyrion said gently. "It's okay. Come on." He slipped his arm under her shoulder and hauled her free of the smashed control boards. Her eyes went wide with pain and then she dropped back into unconsciousness.

Tyrion gently walked her back towards the hatch. Looking down, he saw Mavon, sprawled behind the Navigation console.

"Can someone help him out, please?" he said in a voice that was more like an order than a request.

The second man stepped over and lifted Mavon from the deck.

Tyrion slid sideways through the partially closed hatch, into the main compartment. Four more of the strangers stood near the back, one of them checking several limp forms still belted into the seats, while the other three stood watch over a glowering Silas and an equally unhappy Felix.

"Felix!" Tyrion called. "Give me a hand here!"

Felix moved to rise, but froze when one of the swords flicked in his direction.

"It's alright, Tabo," the first stranger said.

The man lowered his sword and let Felix pass.

He edged up and got on the other side of Nicolla. He saw the injury on her right leg and winced. "Compound fracture. That's not good, boss."

"I know," Tyrion nodded.

The two of them stepped out through the escape hatch and onto the soft grass. Off to one side, a ring of some twenty of the strangers held the remaining survivors in a large group. Their weapons were drawn. Some of them even held spears in their hands.

Looking back over his shoulder, past the tail of his ship he saw the long, scorched furrow of torn earth their landing had created. Here and there, tongues of flame licked at small chunks of burning debris. Beyond that, less than a quarter of a mile away, he could see the outer buildings of the settlement they had buzzed. The only visible damage was the broken spire just past the opposite bank of the river.

"Way to go, Nicky," Tyrion breathed appreciatively.

They moved her to a safe distance away from the wreck and gently laid their semi-conscious pilot on the soft grass.

She moaned quietly with each movement.

"I might as well set this now," Felix said. "At least she's out of it. She won't have to feel it." He reached back and drew the field medic kit from the lower pouch of his fanny pack and ripped the torn fabric of her pants a little more, revealing the nasty wound. A jagged length of pale yellow white bone extended from a rip in her flesh.

"What are you doing?" One of the men asked.

"Saving her life!" Felix shot back vehemently.

Tyrion slowly rose, turning to face the stranger, his body positioned between the man and his people.

"What manner of vehicle is this?" the man demanded.

"It's called a drop ship," Tyrion replied. "It's a medical transport and rescue ship."

"A ship that flies through the air?" The man continued.

Tyrion nodded. "Who are you?" he asked.

The man looked him in the eye, unflinching. He was proud and confident. "I am Denethor, son of Faramir, Prince of Osgiliath and Captain of the Ithilien Rangers."

"We mean you and your people no harm, Denethor," Tyrion said calmly. In his mind, he was struggling to remember the protocols for First Contact situations.

"Then make haste to declare yourself, and your errand," Denethor demanded. "And explain to me why you attacked our city, if, as you say, you mean no harm?"

"We did not attack your city," Tyrion replied steadily. "Master Chief Tyrion Darquefyre, Special Forces Recon, Unit Seven. We were in the process of an evacuation when a storm blew us off course, crippled my ship, and brought us down here." Not entirely the truth, but it was close enough. "We were attempting to land when we saw your city, and we tried to avoid it. We just didn't get high enough before we lost all power."

"And these others?" Denethor nodded towards the cluster of refugees.

"Survivors of a volcanic eruption," Tyrion explained. "They were the last few on the island before it sank into the ocean."

"And the ones dressed as you are?" Denethor continued.

Tyrion turned back to Felix and Nicolla. "This is my field medic, Lieutenant Felix Malone. The girl he's working on is my pilot, Captain Nicolla Sheil. The other injured one is Lieutenant Frank Mavonski, and the big guy is Lieutenant Silas Moore, they're my demolitions experts."

Denethor frowned." While I understand the ranks, some of the titles you give are unfamiliar to me."

"It would take some explaining," Tyrion nodded. "All I can tell you, at the present, is that we are here by accident, and we aren't looking for a fight of any kind. These people are refugees. They've lost everything they have."

Denethor looked long and searchingly into Tyrion's eyes. After a time, he sheathed his weapon and nodded.

"You will, of course, surrender any weapons that you carry," he instructed. "But I will have orders to see to the needs of these refugees, and tend to your wounded."

"Thanks," Tyrion nodded. "We're unarmed."

Denethor nodded, and then vanished back into the ship again. A few moments later, Silas emerged, assisted by another of Denethor's men, bringing an unconscious Mavon with them. They lay Mavon down on the grass next to Nicolla and the soldier withdrew.

"So?" Silas asked in a low growling whisper. "Where are we?"

Tyrion looked around at the distant, jagged mountains off to the east, and then back at the city of Osgiliath and he sighed.

"Hell if I know."

Silas looked over at Felix. "How is she?"

"It's nasty," Felix replied. "We need to get her to a proper hospital to make sure this doesn't get infected. I set the bone, and cleaned her up, but?" He shrugged. "Any chance of getting the medical gear in the ship up and running?"

"Not any time soon," Tyrion sighed.

"Then we need to get her and the other wounded somewhere cleaner." Felix said. He looked up at Silas. "Did we lose any in the crash?"

Silas nodded soberly. "Four."

Tyrion cursed.

Felix nodded and moved to examine Mavon. "Considering what we just went through," he offered. "That's pretty good."

He checked the other wounded comrade and smiled. "He's fine, just a nasty knock on the head. He should wake up with one hell of a hangover."

As if that were his cue, Mavon groaned quietly as he began to awaken.

"Oh, nice timing you skinny little shit," Silas grinned.

"Si?" Mavon asked hoarsely.

"Yeah?"

Mavon smiled in spite of his blinding headache. "Go fuck yourself."

That statement alleviated the tension in a way that nothing else could. Silas was the first to begin to chuckle, and then the relief flooded over each of them in turn and they all fell into relieved laughter.

Denethor's men returned bearing spears lashed together with fabric, creating simple stretchers for the wounded. Tyrion sealed the hatch on his ship and the entire entourage began the slow walk back towards the city known as Osgilioth.

As they entered through one of the eastern gates, Tyrion immediately noticed that the majority of the buildings had been either repaired or mostly rebuilt. The stonework was superbly done, yet the buildings shone in a patchwork of white and older gray.

He looked beside him at Denethor as they moved deeper into the city.

"Looks like this place has seen a few bad days," Tyrion offered.

"It has taken nearly twenty years to repair all that was lost during our last great war," Denethor offered. "In the end, we were victorious."

"Where are you taking us?" Tyrion asked suddenly as the company wound its way through the narrow streets.

"Your wounded will be taken to one of our healing houses," Denethor replied. "The rest will be given shelter and food, as we are able to provide. You, however, must give an account of yourself to my Lord Faramir."

Tyrion nodded.

The reached a small, yet comfortable courtyard opened in front of a newly rebuilt house. Within, several women, dressed in pale blue and white moved about, tending to herb gardens. One of them vanished into the house as the company drew to a halt outside the gates.

A much older woman, also dressed in the pale blue and white dress, emerged a few moments later.

"My Lord?" she asked dutifully.

"Lady Yoreth," Denethor replied. "I have people in need of healing, and others in need of food and shelter."

"Of course, My Lord," the old woman replied. The stretchers were brought in, followed by several others, who were still on their feet, despite various mild injuries.

Denethor turned and indicated Felix as he passed, bearing Nicolla.

"This one is also a healer," he said. "Perhaps he may assist you?"

"As you command, Lord," Yoreth nodded. "Though I don't think I should have need of any more healers. I have more than enough sisters to handle this small group."

Her prattling ceased when she saw one pale blonde eyebrow rise in question.

She merely smiled and gave a slight bow.

"Thank you Yoreth," Denethor replied. There was a touch of soft amusement in his voice for the first time.

Once everyone was in the process of being settled, Denethor bade Tyrion follow him. The two men continued through the narrow streets towards one of the larger buildings.

"Fear not," he offered as he saw Tyrion look back towards the crowd of people. "There are few ailments that their leech craft cannot heal."

"Leech craft?" Tyrion echoed in shock. "Where the hell did we end up?" He would have turned back towards the house but Denethor placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "They will be well tended. You have my word."

He gestured in the indicated direction and, reluctantly, Tyrion followed.

They turned onto a broader avenue, moving steadily towards a large building near the western bank of the river. It was an ancient structure with high walls and a massive domed ceiling. Tyrion groaned when he realized that it was the same building that his ship had nearly missed during their crash landing.

Pieces of the broken spire were still being collected as they approached.

"Oh man," Tyrion groaned. "We clipped the royal residence?"

Denethor looked sidelong at him, saw the dismay on Tyrion's face, and a subtle smile appeared behind his beard.

"Hence our thought that your arrival was some form of attack," he offered.

They passed through the walled gate and into a vast courtyard filled with small gardens and blossoming trees. Unlike the rest of the city, this building's stonework had been repaired and scrubbed clean, so that it gleamed a pearlescent white in the sunlight.

Guards dressed in silver and sable patrolled the outer wall, or stood post at the various entrances along the front facade.

Denethor led Tyrion through one such large doorway and into a long, ornate hall. The floors were of polished stone, and the arches rose above his head like an ancient cathedral.

The paused at another set of ornately carved double doors. Flanking the entrance were two more men, dressed in silver mail with black tabards, trimmed in silver. Their helms were of polished steel, etched with a design that reminded Tyrion of bird's wings.

Denethor gestured to a row of smooth white polished benches.

"Wait here," he said. "I shall announce you to the Lord of the City."

Tyrion seated himself, suddenly conscious of his grimy appearance in such a pristine environment. Instead of sitting, he remained on his feet, back away from the guards.

The two men remained motionless as statues. It was instantly apparent to Tyrion that these, like the other guards moving about the place, were highly trained, highly disciplined soldiers. Their eyes never even flicked in his direction, yet he knew that they were watching him for the slightest hint of treachery.

After a short eternity, Denethor emerged through the doors again.

"My Lord will see you," he offered.

At those words, the two guards turned sharply and drew both doors fully open.

Feeling as if he were about to receive a debriefing. Tyrion straightened up and adjusted his filthy uniform before striding into the chamber behind Denethor.

This chamber was slightly larger than the hall, and decorated with statuary and tapestries of varying hues. Deep ebony wood accented the pearlescent white and silver of the walls. The floor beneath his feet was of alternating black and white stone, polished to a mirror sheen.

At the opposite end of the hall, a man and a woman sat upon a raised platform. The man was tall and proud. He was dressed in dark royal robes lined in pale fur and trimmed in silver. His hair was a soft brown and his eyes were a deep, thoughtful green.

Beside him, dressed in equally regal robes of pale blue and white, was a woman, also proud, with long golden hair, pale skin, and clear blue eyes.

Tyrion halted several paces behind Denethor and snapped to attention.

Denethor bowed before the Lord of the City.

"My Lord Faramir," he said. "I present Master Tyrion Darquefyre."

Denethor rose and stepped to the side.

Tyrion's hand snapped up in a formal military salute.

Faramir eyed him for a moment and then raised a hand from the arm of the ornately carved throne.

"Be at peace, Master Tyrion," he said in a soft, gentle voice.

Tyrion lowered his arm and then placed his hands behind his back, his legs shoulder width apart in a traditional 'at ease' position.

"Sir," he replied.

"My son tells me that the damage incurred by your strange flying machine was not intentional," Faramir stated calmly. "If that is the case, then why have you come here?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" Tyrion asked.

Denethor frowned in mild confusion, while the Lord and Lady exchanged a similar glance with each other.

"Of course," Faramir then said.

Tyrion relaxed a little and shrugged. "My team and I were called in to aid in the evacuation of the city of Mount Estones, in the Tar Antilles System. We were on our way out with the last of the survivors, when the volcano finally erupted. The shock of that eruption caused severe damage to my ship, and we were forced to try and land. We did not know that there were any land masses in this area. We were certain that we would have to put down somewhere in the ocean. The fact that we did make it to land and past your city was a matter of sheer luck. If I may, sir? Where exactly are we? And have the cities on the eastern coast been evacuated?"

Again, his three hosts all exchanged confused glances.

"We know of no such tragedy," Faramir said after a long pause. "Nor do I know any of the lands you name."

Now it was Tyrion's turn to frown in confusion. "This isn't Tar-Antilles?"

Faramir shook his head. "I know of no such kingdom by that name, Master Tyrion," he replied. "You are in the land of Gondor, in the city of Osgilioth, under the protection of the Lord Aragorn, High King of Gondor and Arnor."

"Sir," Tyrion stammered. "The last thing my crew and I remember, we were cruising over the Cundra Seas, between Estones and Antilles, on our way to drop off our survivors. The mountain had gone up, and a tidal surge was heading west across the Cundra, towards the eastern coast of the primary continent."

Faramir looked at him for a long moment. After a time, he nodded, glancing again to the woman at his side.

"While I sense the confusion that we all share," he said amicably. "I do not sense deception in you, Master Tyrion. I do not doubt the truth of what you say, nor the sincerity with which you speak. I judge you to be a man of honor, no matter which land you hail from. However, I must consider your tale and the plight of your companions, and learn my King's wishes. For the time being, you shall reside under the care of the Houses of Healing while I contemplate my decision." He turned his gaze on Denethor. "Return him to his companions, and see to their needs."

"My Lord," Denethor bowed.

Faramir turned his gaze back to Tyrion. "For the time being, Master Tyrion, tend to your people and take rest. You shall have my decision on the morrow."

Tyrion snapped back to attention and saluted. "Thank you, sir." He said sharply. He executed a parade turn and followed Denethor out of the main chamber.

They made their way back through the streets. When they arrived, once again, at the House of Healing, Tyrion immediately noticed the dozen Ithilien Rangers, stationed at points in the courtyard and on the street beyond.

"Let me guess," Tyrion offered. "For our protection, right?"

Denethor smiled grimly. "I shall not deceive you. The guards are here to ensure that you remain within the confines of the House of Healing until my Lord determines otherwise."

Tyrion stopped at the entrance and nodded. He extended his hand. "Well, thanks for being honest about it.

Denethor hesitated for only a moment, then he clasped Tyrion's forearm.

"I shall return as quickly as I may. Until then, take your ease here. I must ask that you and your people remain in this house until I learn my Lord's will."

One of the sisters in the house escorted him politely to his quarters, a small, simply furnished room with a bed, chair and a table. On the table were a simple clay pitcher of water, a small cup, and a washing bowl carved of wood.

Lying neatly folded on the bed was a simple cream colored tunic and a pair of brown breaches.

Tyrion shed his vest and gratefully washed his hands and face. The water was clean and cool, and it cleansed the weariness from his mind as it removed the ash and soot from his skin.

Not bothering with the cup, Tyrion raised the pitcher to his lips and took a long drink and then he changed quickly into the provided garments.

As he was cleaning out his pockets, his fingers closed on the two small objects that had been given to him by the old woman on the ship. Frowning, he drew them out and discovered two brilliant red gemstones, about the size of his thumb, roughly oval in shape, with many shimmering facets.

"What the hell?" he muttered aloud. "These things are probably pretty pricey. Why the hell did she give these to me?"

He took a few minutes, standing at the window and gazing out over the expanse of the city. Inwardly, he was cringing as he absently turned the two stones in his hand.

While the architecture was impressive, he could see no sign of technology. A man driving a horse drawn wagon rolled past the house and all around he could see the guards positions, armed with simple swords and spears. No firearms were evident, though some of the guards carried bows and quivers at their backs

"Another Low Tech world," he concluded. He was trying furiously to wrap his mind around what had happened. In the end he couldn't figure out how they had all wound up in their current plight. By all rights, they should have crashed in the ocean.

When he considered that, he realized that his team and the refugees had caught an unexpected lucky break. If they had made a water landing and survived, they would have been overwhelmed by the tsunami that had been following behind them across the water.

There would have been no way for them to survive the wrath of the sea. They would have been drowned or smashed to pieces, or torn apart by the tidal currents had they been submerged.

All in all, their transport to this strange world had been an inconvenient, yet incredibly fortuitous turn of events.

He was still lost in thought when there was a knock at the door.

He turned and found Silas standing at the entrance, towering over the young woman in the traditional blue and white of the healers.

The two of them entered and the woman moved to collect Tyrion's dirty garments.

"You can leave the vest," Tyrion said softly.

The young woman nodded and placed the vest back on the bed, removing the other clothing and his boots.

Silas nodded as the young lady withdrew.

"How're Nicky and Mavon?" Tyrion asked, leaning against the window sill.

"Mavon's awake and bitching because the sisters here won't let him out of bed," Silas grinned. "Nicky's awake too, and doing as well as can be expected."

"What about Felix?"

Silas chuckled. "He's happy as a clam, running around showing all these healers what they're doing wrong." He indicated Tyrion's closed hand. "What you got there?"

"Oh, these?" Tyrion replied, handing the stones to Silas. "That little old lady on the ship gave these to me during the water rescue."

Silas took the stones and looked at them. "These are nice. What little old lady?"

"The little one standing behind me while we were hauling up the survivors from the Juno," Tyrion explained. "I didn't even bother to look then because we were so busy." He smiled slyly. "You're my resident Black Marketeer. What do you think they're worth?"

Silas held one of the stones up to the light and studied it critically for a moment. "Granted, organics aren't my specialty, but these are pretty clean. I'd say they're worth about twenty each, on the market."

"Well, start asking around," Tyrion said. He gave a detailed description of the woman. "If they're worth that much, then she'll need them back when she starts over."

Silas nodded and handed the stones back to him. "I'll take care of it."

"How are the rest of the refugees?" Tyrion continued.

"Overall, they're okay," Silas replied. "These sisters are taking good care of them, even if we are low-jacking here."

"Yeah," Tyrion nodded. "That could be complicated, both here and now and once we get back."

"Don't you mean if we get back?" Silas corrected him. "What makes you think that the ship will ever fly again?"

"Until we get out there and do an inspection," Tyrion shrugged. "We don't know, so I'm going to work under the assumption that she will."

He stepped over to the bed and drew his pistol from the side holster on his vest.

"Everyone else still has their TAC vests and side arms?" he asked.

Silas nodded. "I grabbed Mavon's and Nicky's. They're stashed in my room."

Tyrion nodded. "Good. I don't think we'll have a problem with the locals, but?" He shrugged.

"I read you."

Tyrion slipped the two gemstones into one of the pockets on his vest and then concealed his weapon under his tunic.

"I want to see Nicky," he said.

"I can take you there," Silas nodded. "I took the time to get to know the layout of this place. If things get dicey, I can have an escape route for us - one that the locals won't expect."

The two of them left the chamber and moved down the hallway.

They found Nicky, lying unconscious in one of the wards. Her face was clean, and she lay beneath a warm blanket. Only her injured leg was exposed, neatly splinted and bandaged.

Seated on a stool next to her was Mavon, his hand resting on hers. Beside him on the small table rested a plate with an untouched meal of bread, some meat, and a cup filled with water.

"How you feeling, Mave?" Tyrion asked.

"Splitting headache," Mavon replied. "But I'm okay."

"I thought the sisters wanted you to stay in bed?" Tyrion pressed.

"Fuck them," Mavon replied shortly.

Tyrion suppressed a grin. "You going to be alright?"

"Yes, sir," Mavon replied.

"Planning on staying with her all night?" Tyrion continued.

"Yes, sir," Mavon said again, looking up at him.

Tyrion saw the pain and self guilt in his eyes, mixed with the concern for a comrade, fallen in battle.

"You know," Tyrion offered as he rested a reassuring hand on his friends shoulder. "We did everything we could and a couple of things we shouldn't. This isn't your fault."

Mavon nodded. "I know." He looked back down at Nicolla.

Tyrion nodded again and looked up at Silas, who shared the same expression he wore.

"Eat some chow," Tyrion finished. "We'll check back later."

He and Silas withdrew, meandering casually through the halls and passages of the house, seemingly engaged in idle conversation.

In point of fact, the two men were learning the layout of the building, finding places to enter or exit, should the need arise. They continued to explore the halls and gardens until late into the evening before Tyrion returned to his room for some much needed rest.

Tyrion found his uniform cleaned, mended and neatly folded, waiting on his bed when he returned.

He smiled and lay down, slipping his pistol beneath the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.

He was awakened by one of the healers, several hours before dawn.

Nicolla had awakened and was asking for him.

Tyrion dressed quickly and followed his hostess back down into the ward.

There, he found Silas, Felix, and Mavon all seated expectantly around the bed where Nicolla lay, slowly sipping broth from a simple wooden bowl.

"How's our psychotic pilot?" Tyrion asked, smiling.

"Crappy," Nicolla replied. She looked pointedly at one of the healers, standing nearby. "They're saying that I won't be up and out of here for a month!"

Tyrion shrugged.

"Come on, Tyrion!" Nicolla whined. "Just get me back to the ship and run a tissue stimulator over it, I could be up and ready in a week."

"Everything's dead on the ship, Nicky," Tyrion replied. "And these people don't have the benefit of our technology."

Nicolla looked at him, momentarily confused. Then realization settled in.

"Low tech?" she asked.

Tyrion nodded.

With a groan, Nicolla let her head fall back on the pillow. "Someone shoot me now."

Silas chuckled. "Not likely. You know what they say about misery and company."

She turned her eyes towards the nearby window and watched as the sky Eastward paled with the coming dawn. Distant, snow capped mountains gleamed in the building light.

"Well, at least I got a view."

"See," Felix grinned. "Now you're thinking positive." Then he turned his gaze to Tyrion. "Still, I would like to try and get some power restored in the ship. The medical equipment would be a huge help here. Even if it was just to analyze some of the medicines that they're using here. They're simple herbal concoctions for the most part, but they're incredibly effective."

"We need to see if the old girl will fly again," Silas added.

"Plus all the other stuff we got on board," Mavon finished.

"Let's keep all that under our hats for the moment," Tyrion said quickly. "And at the moment, we're stuck here until the man in charge lets us out."

"So we're prisoners?" Nicolla asked.

"Call it a house arrest," Tyrion offered. "I should find out what he has in mind sometime today." He looked around, making sure that no one was listening too closely. "In the mean time, stay sharp. Silas knows the lay of the land. If we have to bug out, he's the leader, understood?"

"We aren't going anywhere, Chief," Felix added. "Nicky's leg is far too bad for us to risk moving her, and we can't leave her behind."

"Yes you can," Nicolla said quickly. "If you have a chance to go, then I want you guys to go."

"Nicky," Mavon protested.

"Hey, hey," Tyrion held a hand up. "We're jumping the gun a bit here. Let's wait and see what happens first, alright?"

They all nodded.

"In the mean time," Tyrion continued, looking at Mavon and Nicolla. "The two of you relax while Doctor Fixit here," he looked at Felix. "Continues to aid the healers here, and learn as much as he can."

Felix smiled and nodded. "Understood."

Shortly after their morning meal, which consisted of bacon, bread, and butter, Denethor arrived and requested that Tyrion once again accompany him to the Palace.

They followed the same course through the streets and Tyrion stood once again, before the Lord Faramir. This time, however, Faramir sat alone in the throne room.

Tyrion Stood at attention and saluted, just as before. This time, Faramir did not release him to stand at ease. Instead, he rose and stepped before Tyrion, studying him closely.

"You are a soldier," Faramir said. "In the service of your own land and your own king, yes?"

"Yes, sir, more or less," Tyrion replied, keeping his sudden confusion hidden behind rigid military training.

"You, and your people?" Faramir asked.

"Myself and my crew are, yes," Tyrion replied. "The rest are civilians. Merchants, farmers, various other skills."

"Common people," Faramir finished for him. When Tyrion did not answer, he smiled. "You may, of course, speak freely. They are common people, are they not?"

"How do you define common, sir?" Tyrion asked.

"They are not of noble blood," Faramir explained. "Peasants, or, as you said, merchants, farmers."

"Does that make their lives any less valuable?" Tyrion asked. He fixed Faramir with a frosty gaze. "They're people. That's what matters. They were trapped in a situation beyond their control and they needed help."

"Even at the risk of your own lives?" Faramir asked. "The lives of you and your crew?"

Tyrion quickly began to dislike this line of questions, and he also was less concerned about letting it show.

"My crew and I do what we do because few people can do it!" he said. "That's what we trained for. To help those who are incapable of helping themselves. To protect those who cannot protect themselves."

"Regardless of their rank or station?" Faramir asked.

Tyrion took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was surprised at how the mood of the man had changed in one night. It was as if he were speaking to two different men.

"Begging your pardon, sir," he said. "But who in the fuck do you think you are? The lives of those people are as important to me as the lives of anyone else in the galaxy. I don't care if it's Shabo, Merchant of Shit Storms, or the Great Prophet Alsairs of Denav Six. Each and every one of them is worth just as much as the other, and I will give equal consideration to each one regardless of rank or station!" he spat the last words, imbuing them with just enough contempt to be received by his host.

"Does that answer your question, sir?" he finished angrily.

Faramir paused in his pacing and turned back to face him. Then he smiled and nodded. "It does indeed."

Tyrion frowned.

"The arrival of strangers often presents us with issues of trust," Faramir explained. "And recent events have made trust a rare treasure. Forgive me if, in my haste to discover your motives, I have offended you. It was necessary. My son believes that you are a man of honor, and I needed to confirm his feelings in my own way."

He reseated himself on the throne. "The King's Messenger arrived this morning, with orders to return to Minas Tirith with you and your people."

"King's Messenger?" Tyrion's frown deepened.

"Your presence has been requested in Minas Tirith," Faramir nodded.

"I see," Tyrion said, though he really didn't. "One of my people is wounded, and will not be able to travel."

"That has been conveyed to him, and yet, it is important that all of you attend to the king," Faramir nodded. "To that end, I have prepared a carriage and escort to take you to Minas Tirith as soon as you are ready."

Tyrion nodded. "Very well."

"As to the rest," Faramir continued. "I declare you free in the lands of Gondor and Ithilien. Only My Lord, the King may rescind this edict."

"Thank you sir," Tyrion replied gratefully.

Faramir looked to one side and nodded.

Tyrion turned his gaze and had to force his initial reaction down.

The figure stepping through the side door was small, barely half his height. He was dressed in the same livery as the guards, a black tunic trimmed in silver, though this uniform was much finer that the others. He wore no boots, and his feet were covered in thick dark brown hair, like the hair on his head, which was curly. His features were round and cheerful, and his eyes were blue and bright. The two of them nodded to one another, and Faramir smiled.

"Master Tyrion," The Steward said. "May I present the Halfling, Peregrin, son of Paladin, of the House of Took. The King's Messenger."

The Halfling grimaced at the formal titles.

"You can call me Pippin, if you please," he offered with a smile. "I don't have much use for all the other titles and such, but they seem to like it." He looked pointedly at Faramir.

"If you would be so kind as to accompany our guest back to the Healing House, Master Peregrin," Faramir instructed.

"There wouldn't be a chance of a meal before we left, would there?" The Halfling asked hopefully. "I was sent out so quickly this morning that I missed breakfast."

"I'm sure that can be amended, once you get to the house, Master," Faramir nodded. "The sooner you return with our guest, the sooner you shall be refreshed."

"Great," Peregrin grinned. He nodded his head to Faramir and walked quickly past Tyrion towards the exit. After a few steps, he paused and turned. "Are you coming?"

This time, Tyrion did let a small laugh escape his lips. He saluted the Steward and followed his new guide.

As they walked back towards the Healing House, Tyrion studied the small man beside him. He was no taller than a child, and he had a cheerful demeanor that was almost infectious. Just being around the little person made Tyrion's mood lighter. He suddenly realized that the small man was looking back at him, and grinning.

"Sorry," Tyrion offered. "I've never seen a Halfling before."

"They call us Halflings," Pippin explained. "I'm a Hobbit, if you please."

"Hobbit," Tyrion mused. "Never heard that one either."

"Not many have," Pippin nodded. "We always seem to have been left out of all the old lists and tales. All the way up until recently."

"What changed it?" Tyrion asked.

"Oh, we had a spot of bother a wee while back," Pippin replied easily. "Since then, they can't seem to stop thanking us." He shrugged.

"Hence the high ranking uniform?" Tyrion continued. The Hobbit laughed.

"This?" He indicated his garments. "Oh this was all they could find to fit me, though it is beginning to get a little tight in the middle. Lack of exercise I expect. Still, the food here is very good." He sighed. "I expect they'll need to have the King's tailors make me a new uniform before long. I probably won't fit in Lord Faramir's hand me downs much longer."

"Ah," Tyrion nodded. Then he changed the subject. "Why did your king want to see us?"

"You mean, besides the fact that he and all of Gondor saw you arrive the other day?" Pippin replied.

Tyrion smiled. "Yes, besides that."

"Someone suggested that you might be able to help with a few things," Pippin said, and then he stopped. "I'm not supposed to be talking about that though."

Tyrion felt the subtle twitch in his belly. While the Hobbit was holding back, he wasn't being duplicitous in the way he was doing it.

"Not your place to say?" He offered.

Pippin nodded.

"I can live with that," Tyrion shrugged.

"Actually, it was another stranger that suggested you be brought to the king." Pippin offered in an effort to keep the conversation going.

"Another stranger?' Tyrion felt the twitch in his belly again. "You mean, this has happened before?"

"Yes," Pippin replied. "We had two others arrive recently, in much the same fashion as you, though not with the flying machine, or so strangely dressed." He looked critically at Tyrion's uniform. "Still, their attire was different, in a more familiar sort of way if you take my meaning?"

"I think so," Tyrion nodded. "By more familiar, you mean more like the way you and your people."

"Yes, though I mean no offense," Pippin replied.

"None taken." Tyrion waved a dismissive hand. "How many events have there been?"

"Yours is the second one in a month," Pippin explained. "At least, that we know of, though there have been other things that have made the king rather worried."

"Such as?"

"Well, the last two strangers were waylaid by orcs near Isengard, which has been under the protection of the king these past twenty years. One of them lies in the Kings Healing House, in a fever." Pippin continued. "If the messengers from Rohan hadn't come across them when they did, those poor ladies would have been in for a bad time and no mistake."

"Ladies?" Tyrion's eyebrows rose.

"Aye," Pippin replied. "Two of them. In fact, it was one of them that suggested I come and find out about you."

Tyrion's feet were suddenly rooted in place. "About me?"

Pippin turned and looked up at Tyrion, his entire face a question.

"Pippin," Tyrion continued after a moment. "These two ladies. Do you know their names?"

"Well, I have only met the one," Pippin offered. "Her name's Gabrielle. A very friendly young lady and her friend,"

"Xena," Tyrion breathed.

Pippin frowned. "Yes, but how did you know that?"

Tyrion held his hands out at different levels, approximating the two women's height.

"Xena's about this tall, black hair and blue eyes, while Gabrielle is about his tall, blonde, with green eyes, right?"

"Yes," Pippin nodded, frowning. "But…"

He didn't have time to finish his next question. Tyrion bolted down the street.

He found Mavon still sitting next to Nicolla, talking quietly.

"Where's Silas and Felix?" he asked breathlessly.

"About someplace," Mavon replied in surprise.

"Find Felix," Tyrion ordered. "And get back here. You guys are never going to believe this!" Then he was gone again.

As he walked quickly past the entry hall, he heard the voice of Pippin.

"Excuse me. Did you see a big man come rushing through here?"

Tyrion leaned out past an open archway. "Pippin! Over here!" And then he was gone again.

"Half a moment!" Pippin called after him. "My legs are too short!"

They were all silent for a long moment, each one looking to the others. Pippin sat nearby, contentedly eating his second helping of bacon and toast.

"They're here," Felix finally managed to stammer.

"Gabby saw us go down," Tyrion nodded.

Silas's smile was growing by the moment. "Son of a bitch."

"So, we're back in Sector thirty-seven," Mavon commented.

"I don't see how we could," Nicolla put in. "We were in sector one twenty four - forty light years away. How could we possibly traverse that much distance that fast? It's impossible."

"We're definitely on a low tech world, that's for sure," Felix added.

"Sector thirty-seven isn't the only low tech sector out there, you know," Tyrion mused.

"But if Xena and Gabrielle are both here." Mavon said. "And, last time I looked, they didn't quite have the ability to leave their home planet. So, if this isn't Sol, then where the hell are we and how did we all get here?"

Tyrion looked over at Silas. His grin had melted to something more thoughtful.

"Geiasians?" He asked.

Tyrion shrugged. "Possible. Though I didn't know they went in for this sort of thing. They tend to stay out of everyone else's business, for the most part."

At that, Silas perked up. "What do you mean, for the most part?"

Tyrion shrugged. "I think I had a run in with one of them, when I ran into Xena and Gabrielle before. Cocky son of a bitch that went by the name of Ares."

"On a low tech world?" Silas asked.

Tyrion nodded. "Just after we got Xena back and patched up. He expressed an interest in recruiting us for whatever purposes he had in mind."

"Excuse me," Nicolla interjected. "But could the two of you please explain what you're talking about?"

Both Silas and Tyrion blinked, as if they suddenly realized that their conversation wasn't for all ears.

"Later," Tyrion answered quickly. "When we have time and privacy. Right now, I want us prepped and ready to in ten minutes."

"I'd like to run back out to the ship and grab some of my gear," Felix added suddenly. "If Xena's in bad shape, it might take a bit more than an herbal tea to fix her up."

Tyrion nodded and Felix departed at a jog.

Apparently, word of Faramir's decree had reached the ears of his men stationed around the house, because no one hindered him when Tyrion heard him call for a horse.

And no one seemed inclined to refuse the request since, a few moments after that he heard the sound of hooves on stone was heard clattering away at a rapid pace.

He turned and looked back at the hobbit. Pippin was finishing his second helping and smiling contentedly.

"Had enough?" he asked.

"Just about," Pippin replied cheerily. "No time to fill up the corners, I'm afraid. The King did say he wanted you back before the end of the day."

"How far do we need to travel?" Tyrion asked. "Because I can't let Nicky go far with her leg in this condition."

"Just an afternoon's walk away, if you go on foot as I did," Pippin replied. "And since we have a carriage waiting, the trip will take even less time, and less exertion."

Tyrion nodded. Then he turned and presented Nicky with a pair of roughly made crutches.

"Felix had these put together, but remember, just because you have them," he said sternly. "Doesn't mean you get to hobble all over the place, got it?"

Nicky nodded. Immediately, she struggled to her feet, smiling triumphantly as she left the bed.

From nearby, a shriek of concern erupted, startling all of them.

"You shouldn't be out of bed!" Yoreth exclaimed, almost in a panic. "That leg won't hold you for at least a fortnight, and even then," Her voice faded when she saw the two instruments jammed up under Nicky's armpits, and her injured leg hovering a few inches from the floor.

"Oh," she breathed. "Well, even though, I think it's foolish for you to be moving about."

She wrung her hands together nervously.

"They've been summoned by the King," Pippin said simply.

"Then his highness should show some common sense, he should," Yoreth replied sharply. "Summoning this poor child so soon after her hurt and all."

"It's alright," Tyrion said quickly, forestalling a continuation in the debate. "We got her."

The three of them surrounded her as they moved towards the entrance.

Beyond the courtyard, a large wagon clattered to a stop before the courtyard. It was a dark brown and black wagon, sturdily built of thick wooden planks and drawn by four massive draft horses.

Mavon took a look at the conveyance and winced. He turned and gave some hasty instructions to a nearby sister. She departed quickly.

When she returned she was accompanied by a second young woman. They carried a stretcher between them and a length of coiled rope.

The interior of the wagon was simple, with a pair of benches running along each inner wall. Quickly, Mavon and Tyrion lashed sections of rope across the gap between the two benches, and then set the stretcher upon it.

Reluctantly, Nicky lay down on the stretcher and felt the ropes give slightly under her weight.

"May not help much," Mavon apologized. "But I don't want you getting bounced around too much on this thing."

Once they were all settled, the wagon and its escort of some fourteen soldiers on horseback began weaving their way through the city and towards the nearby island of rock to the south.

The wind flowed over him. The earth flew beneath him. Felix hadn't ridden a draft animal since childhood, but the old lessons had returned quickly. He felt the hooves of the horse beneath him drumming at a rapid clip across the field towards the wreck of their ship. He was grinning.

The horse slowed to a brisk trot as it approached the ship. The Phoenix Fire rested with its nose on the ground, the forward air foil was snapped off and lay several hundred feet forward of the nose.

Aside from that, his cursory inspection showed that the ship was, surprisingly intact.

He walked around the ship, looking for any signs of more severe structural damage and found none.

As he came back around the tail of the ship, his eyes fell on a distant craggy hill. He froze in astonishment, his mouth going slack.

Built into the very side of the mountain and shimmering white against the gray stone face, was a city. It rose in seven terraced levels to a single large protrusion of stone, like the prow of a ship, which extended out over the valley. Beyond that, he could just make out the domes and spires of a huge building.

Banners fluttered in the strong winds, shimmering black or green as they clung to silver spires lifting majestically to point to the heavens.

Even as he took in the grand scene, he also saw a wagon and several horses moving out of Osgiliath and towards the mountainous city.

"That'll be the chief," he thought aloud.

He left the horse alongside the ship and pulled the hatch open.

The interior was silent and undisturbed. Shadows filled the main compartment.

Felix his several switches near the hatch and was rewarded by the gentle amber illumination of the emergency lights.

"Okay," he said. "Not bad. Still have chemical power."

He moved across the compartment and opened one of the cabinets that housed their medical supplies.

He drew his field kit up and began placing various items into it until it was filled almost to the point where wouldn't be able to seal it. Then he filled a second satchel in the same fashion, with other equipment.

After that, he slid a data transcriber pad into his thigh pocket, checked the charge on his side arm, and moved to the front of the compartment.

The smugglers panel slid aside under his touch and he checked the other equipment within. Everything looked undamaged and untouched.

Next, he pushed the hatch to the flight deck fully open and stepped inside. Several blown out panels and various scorch marks showed where circuits had overloaded and connections had been wrenched free, only to short out a moment later. The satisfied feeling in his belly turned to something a bit more uncomfortable as he got down and began fishing about underneath the engineering station.

He found the main circuits he was looking for and ran a check on them, making sure they were still intact. When his equipment returned a 'NO FAULTS DETECTED' response, he smiled and gently reconnected the circuit.

Instantly, there was a soft, nearly imperceptible hum, and several of the smaller monitors on the engineering console above him glowed dimly back to life.

He went through the ship, switching off every system except for one small monitor that showed several bars, all of them simple vertical slashes at the far left of the display. He left the equipment running and rechecked his equipment.

Smiling in satisfaction, he resealed the hidden panel in the main cabin and moved towards the rear of the ship.

Several larger packs caught his attention, though for completely unprofessional reasons. His smile widened as he removed two of them and then went back out to the horse.

Felix could see the wagon in the distance, moving at a comfortable clip towards the massive rock hewn edifice that was Minas Tirith. He spurred his horse after them, once again enjoying the simple sensation of riding in a way that he had not experienced since a childhood that seemed lifetimes gone.

He saw Tyrion riding up front next to the driver. The horse slowed to a walk next to the wagon.

Tyrion looked at the extra equipment and frowned.

"What are the drop packs for?" he asked.

Felix merely smiled. "I got some decent news for a change." He replied, dodging the question.

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"Looks like the solar converters are still working. I was able to reinitialize them and start charging the backup batteries. If we're lucky, we might be able to get the main Computer coil online."

Tyrion smiled. "So we can take a reading of the local constellations and find out where the hell we are."

"Plus a few other things," Felix replied. "I also found a tissue regenerator and nano injector that still had a charge, so we might be able to get Nicky up on her feet by the end of the week."

"God, please!" They heard Nicky cry from within the wagon.

The wagon passed into the gates of the city and began the long, slow ascent to the summit and the citadel.

They were passing the fourth gated entrance when several soldiers, all heavily armed with swords and shields intercepted the wagon and fell into step on either side.

It was instantly apparent that something about the friendly invitation had changed.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Felix asked Tyrion from astride the horse.

Tyrion nodded and surreptitiously pointed two fingers at his eyes.

Felix nodded.

They reached the citadel a short time later, only to find even more guards arrayed to welcome them.

Tyrion eyed the situation and sighed inwardly.

The men were scattered about the courtyard, surrounding a large blossoming white tree. Hands rested on sword hilts, or flexed around spear shafts. The eyes within the shining helms stared at them without emotion.

"Okay," Tyrion said slowly under his breath. "Temperature's dropping."

A single guard stepped forward and gestured towards the main entrance.

"This way," he ordered.

Nicolla leaned against Silas for support and the five of them followed their guide towards the main entrance of the citadel. As they moved, the guards about the courtyard shifted in position to observe them.

"They're waiting for us to make a move, Chief," Silas said quietly.

Tyrion nodded. "Be ready."

They were halted at the main doors.

"Here you will lay aside your packs and any weapons you may be carrying." The guard at the door said.

The others followed Tyrion's queue and released the catches on their packs, letting the gear fall to the stone floor with several loud thuds.

They lined the back packs against the wall and turned to face the guard expectantly.

The guard looked them up and down, ensuring that no weapons were being smuggled past him. With a nod from him, two more men pulled the great doors open.

"Follow," The guard said gruffly.

Felix snorted quietly. "Want me to roll over and play dead too?" he whispered.

"Easy, Doc," Tyrion replied. He looked down at Pippin, who had an expression of moderate confusion on his face. "This wasn't originally how we were going to be welcomed, was it?"

"No indeed," Pippin replied.

They were led into the citadel, past the main hall and into the throne room.

"Mister Strider!" Pippin asked when he entered the room. "What's happened? I thought that these people would be welcome in your home?"

"Master Took," The king said with unusual steel. "Stand away, please."

Pippin did so, and then the King began pacing towards them, his eyes were sharp and filled with a suspicious, angry light.

About the royal hall, men that had to be the king's personal body guard stood, with drawn weapons in their hands, all with eyes on the visitors.

"What devilry do you possess that you could strike out at a helpless soul from so great a distance?" The king demanded.

Tyrion was taken completely off guard by the accusation.

"I'm sorry, sir," he answered. "I don't know what you mean. If you're referring to our near miss down in Osgiliath, I thought that Lord Faramir and I had sorted all of that out?"

"I was not referring to Faramir, or the damage to his city, though that did not endear you to me, to be certain," Aragorn replied. "For that alone, I should not have welcomed you. But then, shortly after you arrive, a young girl's mind is afflicted with madness."

"Madness?" Tyrion asked. "I still don't understand how we-"

He was stopped when the king threw a small object to the floor at his feet.

"I know not what this is," he said. "But I know dark sorcery when I behold it! You descend from the heavens, and then shortly thereafter, a young girl's mind is driven away by that!"

"Driven away?" Tyrion looked back at the others as he stooped and retrieved the item.

"This looks like an ident card," his voice stuck when he turned the card over and beheld the information upon it.

A deep, smoldering anger began to simmer in his eyes.

"Where did you find this?" Tyrion asked. His reaction was obviously not the one that the king had expected.

"It was in a box, in the possession of the young woman now afflicted!" He answered.

Tyrion nodded and slowly turned to face the others. His eyes locked on Mavon and Nicolla in turn.

"Either of you two monkeys' want to explain to me how Gabrielle wound up with the ident that Silas prepped for her back on Tantarus?" he asked in a growl.

"Why look at me?" Mavon asked.

"Because you were the one that vanished the morning we were supposed to bust sphere and go home, that's why!" Tyrion replied.

"Ah," Mavon replied. "Never mind."

"I'm waiting," Tyrion said.

Nicolla winced visibly under his gaze, and even the king seemed suddenly out of sorts. He had expected his new "guests" to profess innocence, or ignorance to the events he had described. Instead, the leader of the strangers was suddenly admonishing his subordinates in his presence.

"I'm waiting," Tyrion repeated hoarsely.

"Just trying to figure out the best way to explain it, is all," Mavon countered easily.

"Secure that shit you scrawny brat!" Silas boomed suddenly. Then the big man turned his eyes on Nicolla. "Spill it, Nicky."

Nicolla looked from her superior officer to her civilian boss and back again.

"It's like this," She said nervously. "After we all met up with them a couple of years ago, well, I don't know about the others, but I didn't want to just cut ourselves completely off from her, you know? And then Mavon came up with the idea of giving her a way to contact us if she ever got into too much trouble, and so we sort of-"

"I gave her a personal data transponder and her ident card in a box." Mavon interjected. "And I gave the box to her with strict instructions that it should not be opened unless they were in it up to their earlobes, see?"

"You gave her a box," Tyrion repeated. "A box with technologically advanced artifacts on a protected low tech world!"

"And I made the barcode on the ident card the trigger to reawaken the memories you had me suppress," Nicky finished. "If she and Xena wound up in something too hot, she could open that box, look at the barcode, and remember how the PDT worked. Then she could signal us and we could fly in to the rescue."

"You gave technologically advanced equipment to a primitive on a low tech world!" Tyrion thundered, no longer caring about where he was. "Do you know how much shit you have us in right now? Never mind the fact that a primitive mind might not be able to handle a total recall like that, especially after all the info we flash pressed into her mind to help her acclimate!"

"She could handle it!" Nicky shot back. "I made sure of that before I set it up! If she couldn't have handled it, then I wouldn't have done it, Chief, you know that!"

"Which is why she's sitting somewhere catatonic, right?" Tyrion roared angrily.

At that, Nicolla looked down at the floor.

The fury on Tyrion's face and the fire in his eyes could have split stone. He fought to keep his temper in check. His lips were twitching when he turned back to face the king. Even the Queen, seated beyond, on the raised platform, sat up straighter in her seat when she saw his expression.

"Sir," He grated, looking back at the king. "While I had no knowledge of this little conspiracy, I am responsible for the actions of my crew, no matter how stupid they are!" He glanced back over his shoulder at the others.

"Now just a – " Mavon began.

"Stand fast!" Tyrion bellowed so loudly that everyone in the room jumped.

Mavon's mouth snapped shut.

"If the actions of my people have anything to do with Gabrielle's condition," Tyrion continued. "Then it is my responsibility to set it right. Even if it wasn't, Gabrielle and Xena are our friends. I'm asking you to allow us to try."

Aragorn studied Tyrion closely, and a smile began to pull at the corners of his mouth. "And if I were to refuse, you would, no doubt, attempt to do so without my consent."

"Yes, sir, I would," Tyrion replied.

"Very well," Aragorn nodded. "I had thought to discover some dark conspiracy here. Instead, the only conspiracy I see is that of friendship, even if it were done without your knowledge."

"Thank you," Tyrion nodded. He turned back and stepped over towards the two culprits.

The party was escorted back down to the nearby Healers House. There, they found Xena, lying unconscious on the bed, and Gabrielle, seated next to her, motionless and unresponsive.

Tyrion stepped around the bed and saw Gabrielle's expressionless face. Her eyes were open, but seeing nothing.

"Hey there, kiddo," he said gently. The young bard made no response.

Tyrion looked at her for a few moments more and then stepped back over to Nicolla.

"Okay," he growled. "I don't know what you did Nicky, but you make it right, got me?"

"Yes sir," Nicolla replied, still wincing at the tone in his voice.

She hobbled over and pulled another chair close to Gabrielle, seating herself as comfortably as she could.

At her request, Silas stepped forward and gently lifted Gabrielle, chair and all.

"Just turn her to face me," Nickolla instructed. "Gently." She watched as the massive man moved the chair and its occupant with ease. "Easy….easy…just set her down right in front of me….good."

Nicky looked into Gabrielle's eyes.

"I don't get it," she said after a few moments. "She should have been able to handle it. I was sure that she could handle the stress."

Behind her, Felix was stooped over the bed, tracing a diagnostic instrument across Xena's motionless body.

"Well," Tyrion folded his arms across his chest. "Guess what."

Gently, Nicolla lifted Gabrielle's hand up. When she released it, the hand stayed where it was.

"That's what I was afraid of," she said with a resigned sigh. "Looks like a case of H.S.R."

"And that is?" Silas asked. Like Tyrion, he was equally upset at the actions of his companions.

"Hyper Synaptic Response," Nicolla explained. "More commonly known as Brain Strain, in my circles."

"Brain Strain?" Mavon asked, looking over at Silas. "Sounds like one of the drinks at your bar?"

"It is one of the drinks at my bar," Silas answered.

"It's also a condition suffered by people who have overwhelming synaptic recall." Nicolla added. "I need to go in."

"Um, excuse me?" Another voice said from the nearby door. They all looked up to see the hobbit, Pippin, hovering at the entrance.

"Sorry to intrude," he continued. "But I am concerned about the young lady, as you all seem to be. Did I just hear you say that you were going to go inside Gabrielle's head?"

Nicolla nodded. "In a manner of speaking."

Pippin frowned. "Won't that kill her?"

Felix finished his check of Xena and let the computer run its analysis.

"She won't literally go into Gabrielle's head," he explained. "Just as I am a healer of the body, more or less,"

"He's a flipping Field Medic," Mavon whispered. He received a sharp jab in the gut by Tyrion.

"Nicolla, here, can do the same thing with the mind," Felix went on, ignoring Mavon's comment. "She can," He paused, looking for the correct explanation. "She can read Gabrielle's soul. Perhaps even speak with her spirit and bring her back."

"Ah," Pippin nodded. "I think I understand."

Nicolla smiled at the hobbit, and then fixed her eyes back on Gabrielle.

Gently she reached up and placed a hand on Gabriele's cheek.

"Okay, Gabs," she whispered. "Don't worry. It's just me."

She looked deeply into Gabrielle's blank eyes until she felt as though she were falling into the gaze.

The world about her melted away and she fell through a collage of images until she landed in the middle of a nightmare.

All about her was smoking ruin. The earth was ripped asunder in dozens of places. Bodies lay strewn and broken across a field drenched in blood. Instantly, Nicolla recognized the location of the keep at Cyerna, where she and the others had rescued Xena from the torture of a mad warlord. It was one of the memories she had suppressed. Gabrielle and Xena must have traveled there after the battle.

Neither she nor the other members of Old Number Seven had returned to inspect their work, and Nicolla was glad of that fact, now that she saw the destruction.

"Oh baby," She whispered sympathetically. "No wonder you ran and hid."

She looked about the place. Shadowy figures moved to and fro amidst the blackened, charred rubble. Small fired crackled amidst the broken walls, and the incessant sound of insects buzzed in her ears.

"Gabby!" Nicolla called out. Her voice echoed in this hellish universe. "Gabby! It's me! It's Nicolla!"

Reluctantly, she began moving amidst the rubble, bodies, and blood, pausing every few dozen yards to call out for the errant bard.

Everything was carnage. Blood pooled and settled like sticky tar in depressions in the mucky earth, or dripped ominously from prostrate forms hanging over broken walls.

Nicolla felt her heart aching in sympathy for what the young woman had witnessed.

"Gabby!" she cried out. "Gabby, baby! Please answer me!"

She passed into the ruins of the broken courtyard. Within, she discovered a partially demolished stairway descending into the darkness.

"Gabrielle!" Nicolla called again. She heard a rustling beyond the door.

She paused for a moment, her eyes scanning the dreamscape around her.

"Okay, you nit," she chided herself. "Stop and think. This is a memory, a block, a wall of images. Don't search like it's a real place." She closed her eyes. "Don't get caught up in the fantasy. You know she's in this place. She's making this place."

Nicolla let her mind stretch out past the nightmare images, probing for a sign, a sense of direction, something of Gabrielle that she could zero in upon. The sounds of the insects and the fires and the crumbling earth faded away into a dull throb. Within that throb she could perceive something else.

As if from a great distance, she heard a child sobbing. That single noise snapped her around.

"Gabs!" Nicolla was almost crying in her own right by now. The steps dropped into the darkness, and paused at a small landing outside a thick oak door.

Beyond that the steps fell away into inky blackness.

Forcing her body to move slowly, she pushed the battered door open and found a dank, dismal room. Cell doors rested on either side. All but one of them was standing open.

"Gabby?" Nicolla called gently.

She moved quietly towards the locked door and peeked inside.

Crouched in the far corner, hugging her knees to her chest, was a small child. Her golden hair hung in dirty strings, and her clothing was torn and covered in filth. Terrified green eyes peered out at her from behind dingy locks of hair.

"Gabby?" Nicolla whispered. "Oh god, Gabby, baby, come here." The small figure tried to withdraw further into the corner.

"God, Gabby," Nicolla whispered. "Baby, I am so sorry. I didn't want you to get hurt. I swear I didn't."

Nicolla stepped back and grasped the handle on the cell door. It opened slowly, but only far enough for her to reach her hand in to her. She could not enter. The traumatized, child like mind of the young bard was fighting to keep the intruder out.

"Gabs," she pleaded, stretching her hand out to the child. "Come on, Gabs. Take my hand."

"It hurts," the child said. "It hurts to remember."

"It isn't going to hurt any more, Gabby," Nicolla pleaded. "I swear to god it won't hurt any more, but you have to trust me. Please, take my hand."

Slowly, the child reached out towards her with one tiny, trembling hand. Nicolla could see frightened tears welling up in the child's eyes.

"That's it," Nicolla nodded, trying to force her mind to stay calm. "That's it. Come on, baby."

The tiny hand gently settled into hers, and Nicolla wrapped her fingers around it, pulling her forward.

The cell door flew open and the world vanished in a blinding radiance, even as Nicolla pulled the child to her and wrapped her arms about the child protectively.

The light faded, and when Nicolla looked down, she found Gabrielle staring up at her in wonder.

"Nicky?" Gabrielle asked.

"Hey, Gabs," Nicolla smiled.

"Where are we?" Gabrielle looked about. Off to one side was a doorway, filled with brilliant white illumination.

"We're in your mind, Gabs," Nicolla explained. Then she looked down. "I'm sorry. I never should have done that to you. You deserved to know, but it was the only way to protect the two of you, and us."

Gabrielle actually smiled. "I know, but did you have to make it hurt so much when I remembered?"

"It's not going to hurt any more," Nicolla answered evenly. "But you have to come back with me, okay?"

"What about Xena?" Gabrielle asked. "I don't want to come back from the dead if she won't be there."

"Dead?" Nicolla gasped. "Oh, Gabby, you aren't dead. Not even close."

Gabrielle frowned. "You've been here before," she said slowly. "You came into my mind twice before."

"Yes," Nicolla answered. "I had to."

"You gave me something," Gabrielle continued as if she hadn't heard her. "And then, you tried to take it away again."

"No," Nicolla shook her head. "I didn't take it away. I just had to hide it from you for a while."

"Nicky," Gabrielle's expression became hard. "Put it all back."

"Gabs," Nicolla started.

"All of it," Gabrielle interrupted her. "Put it all back or I'm not going anywhere."

"It's going to get you into trouble, Gabby," Nicolla said. "Nothing good will come of it, I promise."

Gabrielle raised her eyebrow and folded her arms across her chest.

Nicolla held her gaze for a moment and then sighed.

"Fine," she conceded. "Fine, you can have it all back."

Gabrielle smiled. "Then let's go."

The two of them clasped hands and Nicolla led Gabrielle towards the blinding light. They passed through the threshold and felt themselves falling faster and faster. A single point of darkness ahead came closer and closer until Gabrielle felt her eyes blinking. When her vision cleared, she was staring at the concerned face of Nicolla. Her body felt like it was made of stone. When she tried to speak, she choked.

"Nicky?" she breathed.

Nicolla smiled. "Welcome back, Gabby."

The two women embraced. That was when she saw the huge shadow stretching out across the floor. Turning her head, she found Silas, looming over her like a dark wall, and grinning broadly.

"Silas?" She exclaimed. Her eyes moved from one to the other until she found the most familiar face in the crowd.

"Tyrion?" she asked breathlessly. "Is that you?"

Tyrion nodded. Gabrielle stumbled to her feet and threw her arms around his neck.

Tyrion smiled and patted her back. "Hey kiddo," he said. "You miss us or something?"

"Well I'll be damned," Felix muttered. His eyes were fixed on the small data screen of his medical scanner.

"What?" Mavon asked.

"The nanos that we injected into Xena," Felix said. "They're active, but they're malfunctioning."

"What do you mean?" Silas replied.

Felix was rummaging through one of his medical supply bags.

"It's like something scrambled them somehow," Felix explained. "They're running all over the place, but they aren't doing what they should be doing."

"What are they doing?" Tyrion asked, finally releasing Gabrielle.

Felix was almost in a frenzy, searching for something specific. "It's like a god damned civil war in there! Half the little buggers are trying to shut down her body, and the other half are repairing the damage the first half is causing. End result, Xena here sleeps away."

"So why are you panicking?" Silas asked.

"Cause the bad buggers are slowly winning," Felix replied. "I need to zap them back to default and reprogram – ah, here we go!"

He removed two long cords connected to a small dark gray box. He opened the box and the screen and keyboard within lit up.

"Okay," he said as he knelt down next to Xena. "Just got to jolt them the right way."

He pressed the adhesive portions of the cords on either side of Xena's neck.

"Good," he spoke aloud to himself as his finger flew across the small command pad.

"Almost there."

He finished punching in the commands with three authoritive taps.

"Everyone stay clear," he cautioned. He looked at his chrono and counted. "Three, two, one."

There was a short electrical buzz, and Xena jerked suddenly on the bed and then went still.

"Xena!" Gabrielle's elation was momentarily overcome by fear.

"It's alright, it's alright," Felix held up a hand. "She's fine."

He pulled his scanner out again and passed it slowly over Xena's body again.

The scanner showed the tiny objects, now floating dormant within Xena's circulatory system.

"Right," Felix smiled in relief. "They're inert."

He replaced the two objects in his bag and drew out a hypo.

Plugging the hypo into the scanner, he entered several commands and then he placed the injector head against Xena's throat.

There was a soft hiss and Felix withdrew the instrument, sliding it back into the bag.

"Will she be alright?" Gabrielle asked anxiously.

"She'll be fine," Felix grinned. "Might take a day or two to get her nervous system patched up, but she should be right as reign."

"What about the fever?" Gabrielle pressed.

"The fever was her body's way of combating the nanos that were trying to do her in. Now that they're inert, her fever should break in about an hour, give or take."

"Nanos?" Gabrielle frowned.

"Yeah," Felix grinned. "I believe the Master Chief injected the two of you with them when he was working on you, just to help you guys heal up after all the action."

"Oh, really?" Mavon stood up from against the wall.

"Why were they malfunctioning, Felix?" Tyrion asked.

"Don't know," Felix shrugged. "They may have been scrambled by an electrical burst, or something. But since Gabby and Xe come from a low tech world without powered amenities, that shouldn't have happened."

"I want to talk about this whole injecting nanos thing," Mavon said loudly.

"Take a wild guess," Tyrion pressed, ignoring Mavon's protest.

Felix pondered for a moment and then shook his head. "The only thing on her world that could scramble nanos into something like that would be if she were in real close proximity to a powerful electro magnetic or static field, like a lightning strike."

"Lightning?" Gabrielle blurted. "We got caught in a big storm before we wound up here!"

"How big?" Silas asked.

"The biggest I'd ever seen," Gabrielle replied. "There was lightning flashing everywhere. Xena ran out and rescued some old lady who got caught in the middle of it."

She frowned. "Then, I think, a lightning bolt struck very close to where we were taking shelter."

"Old lady?" Tyrion interrupted. "What old lady?"

"Hey!" Mavon was at the end of his patience. "This whole nanos thing!"

"What about it?" Tyrion replied impatiently.

"Who was the one screaming at me a little while ago about tech in the hands of primitives?" Mavon's eyebrow rose.

"What?" Tyrion stood up. "You're kidding, right?"

"What are you doing injecting nanos into them?" Mavon asked. "Kind of like giving them advance tech on a Low Tech world, isn't it?"

"No!" Tyrion replied. "I didn't give them an artifact that they could lose or backwards engineer!"

"Oh," Mavon nodded sarcastically. "So, if you do it, under the skin, it's okay! Nicky and I do it and we're the worst thing in the universe since the Vygon Covenant!"

"Not true!" Tyrion shot back.

"No?" Mavon pressed.

"No," Tyrion replied. Then a smile began pulling at his lips. "You were worse than the Vygons long before we met these two."

Mavon was about to protest when laughter erupted from Gabrielle. It smashed through the growing tension and seemed to brighten the entire room.

She slid underneath Silas's massive arm and squeezed him tight.

"Gods, I've missed you all!"

In the midst of their laughter, Aragorn entered the room. As soon as he saw Gabrielle on her feet, standing with Silas's massive arm over her shoulder, his expression lightened.

"All well, Master Took?" He asked the hobbit, seated in the corner.

"Seems that way," Pippin replied. "Though I don't understand half the words they're speaking."

"Long story," Tyrion offered.

The king opened his mouth to reply, but a sound caught their attention.

They all looked down to see Xena stirring on the bed.

"Xena?" Gabrielle ducked out from beneath Silas's arm and knelt beside her friend. "Xena?"

Xena's eyes fluttered open.

"Gabrielle?" she whispered hoarsely. Her pale blue eyes were dull and unfocused.

"I'm here," Gabrielle said. She reached down and grasped Xena's hand. "Just relax. We're okay."

"What happened?" Xena asked.

"We had to bring you to Minas Tirith for help," Gabrielle turned to fill a small cup from a nearby pitcher. When she did, she caught Tyrion's gaze and froze.

Tyrion held up one finger and shook his head subtly.

"Where?" Xena asked.

To her credit, Gabrielle recovered quickly. "Minas Tirith," she explained. "It's a long story." She lifted Xena's head from the pillow and let her sip at the water. "I'll tell you all about it later."

Xena nodded and let her head back down upon the pillow. Then her eyes went wide with sudden fear.

"I can't move!" she gasped. "I can't feel my arms or legs!"

"Don't be concerned, Miss Xena," Felix said quickly. "You were injured in combat and took a nasty hit on the head. The end result was some loss of feeling in your extremities. It should return in a couple days."

"For the time being," Aragorn stepped forward and knelt down opposite Gabrielle. "You may recover here, in my city for as long as you require."

Xena frowned, looking up at all the strange faces. "I don't know you."

"Xena," Gabrielle said. "This is Tyrion." Again, she caught his cautious look. "And his companions." She ran through their names, introducing Felix last.

"Felix was the one that healed you," she finished. The youthful man merely shrugged as he wrapped up his equipment and stowed it back in his bag.

"Doesn't feel like he healed me," Xena replied.

Mavon chuckled. "You should have seen yourself a few hours ago."

Xena looked at Mavon again and her narrowed in recognition.

"You!" she said sharply. "I know you!"

"Yes," Mavon replied, grinning. He gave a slight half bow. "It is good to see you again, Mistress Xena."

His voice and manner were suddenly so out of character for him, that the rest of his companions turned to look at him curiously.

"Okay, people," Felix said. "She's awake, but she needs to rest and let the, erm, medicine work so everyone out."

"Gabrielle?" Felix asked suddenly. "May I speak with you, privately?"

"Sure," Gabrielle replied.

Felix nodded.

The rest of them filed out of the room.

"I'll be right back," Gabrielle smiled reassuringly.

"Hey, Gabrielle?" Xena asked. The young bard turned back.

"Did you do all this?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle nodded.

Xena smiled. "Good work."

Gabrielle followed the others out of the house and into the courtyard. There, Aragorn bade the rest of Tyrion's party to come with him, while Nicolla and Felix remained behind.

"You can't mention what you experienced with us, Gabrielle," Nicolla said without preamble.

"Why not?" Gabrielle replied. "She was there with Tyrion at Cyerna, remember?"

Felix looked at Gabrielle and then back at Nicolla. "Tell her."

"Gabby," Nicolla said uneasily. "When I brought you back out, I held a few details back."

"What?" Gabrielle blurted. "Nicky, you promised!"

"I know, I know," Nicolla said quickly. "But there's a lot for you to deal with, and I was afraid you would be overwhelmed if I unblocked everything at once. That was why I maintained the blocks on some of the details regarding Cyerna. I need to talk to you about it all first."

"You need to be ready for what you'll remember, Gabrielle," Felix added quickly. "Otherwise you might relapse, and we don't want that."

Gabrielle was clearly unhappy about this turn of events. Nicolla looked down at the points of her crutches, resting against the hard stone pavers beneath her feet.

Felix looked between the two of them and sighed.

"Okay," he said lightly. "First thing's first. Let's get that leg fixed." He gestured to a nearby bench as he rummaged through his supplies. "And we can talk while I work."

Nicolla settled gently upon the stone bench, her injured leg stretched out before her.

Felix rolled the fabric of her pant leg up and removed the dressings, revealing the nasty wound.

Gabrielle winced. "When did that happen?"

"When we landed," Nicolla replied.

Felix placed a hypo just above the injury and Nicolla winced as the injection entered her bloodstream. Then Felix removed a second device and began moving it back and forth over the injury.

As Gabrielle watched in amazement, the ripped flesh began to knit quickly together. At the same time, the swelling around the broken leg diminished.

"Xena went through some major hell back in Cyerna," Felix said. "And she may not want to remember it."

"And on the same token," Nicolla added, wincing under Felix's ministrations. "Neither may you."

"Like what?" Gabrielle asked.

Nicolla sighed. "She was tortured, Gabrielle. Tortured damn near to death. If Felix and the others hadn't worked like mad to save her, she would have died after they got her out."

Gabrielle felt a chill run up her spine. "It was that bad?"

Felix sighed. "They whipped the ever loving shit out of her, Gabs. They had pounded on her pretty good too, and all the fingers in her hands were busted. Getting the picture?"

Gabrielle shuddered. "Yeah."

"The point is," Nicolla continued. "There could have been other, um, incidents involved. It might not be a good thing if she remembers it."

"Definitely not right now, while she's still recovering from the attack." Felix finished his work and replaced the gear in the bag again. "Okay. Try and stand up."

Gabrielle looked at Nicolla's exposed leg and was amazed to see no trace of injury.

Gingerly, Nicolla stood up, carefully adding weight to the recently healed limb.

"Well?" Felix asked.

"It's tender," Nicolla replied. "But it's a lot better than it was."

"Well," Felix nodded. "The nanos are working, but the bone might be brittle for a few days. I want you to take it easy. No long walks, no flights of steps without holding handrails, the usual geriatric stuff, okay?"

Nicolla nodded.

"I want to remember it all," Gabrielle said suddenly. "Even if Xena never remembers, I need to know."

The two of them looked at her, and then at each other.

"Okay," Nicolla nodded. "But not all at once. You need to process what I opened up first. We'll get to the rest over the next couple of days, fair enough?"

"Alright," Gabrielle replied. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "But I mean all of it. You promised."

"I know, I know," Nicolla replied.

"In the mean time," Felix added. "We need to act as though Xena has never met Silas, Nicky, or myself. She already remembers Mavon, and she'll remember the chief when Nicky gets finished, right?"

Nicky nodded. "I'll give her everything up to the point where he healed Gabby, and then I'll jump to the morning they woke up."

Gabrielle shuffled uneasily. "I'm not sure if this is the right thing to do. I mean, granted the experiences were bad – real bad if your expressions mean anything, but they were her experiences. I don't think we should be the ones to decide whether or not she remembers them."

Nicolla gave her a grim smile. "We'll talk after you and I unlock everything, okay? Believe me when I say that you might have a different opinion when you really remember all of it."

A large house was given over to Tyrion and his companions. The five of them quickly moved their equipment into the spacious accommodations and set up their command post.

They made several trips back to the Phoenix Fire to retrieve crates of various gear.

After three wagon loads, their moving was complete.

For the most part, the only member of the team seen outside the house over the next several days was Felix.

He made numerous trips between the houses of healing and the new number seven command post.

Tyrion sat back in a comfortable chair and stared at the LCD monitor on the portable terminal. He lit a cigarette and looked up at the brooding bulk of Silas leaning against the entry arch.

"So," Silas asked. "Now what?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Now we see about getting home."

37


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"If one wishes to learn the ways to end a life, they must first devote time to the art of restoring it, for none should have the right to take that which cannot be returned without first understanding it…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

Xena stayed in the Houses of Healing for another two weeks before she was permitted to join Gabrielle in their room at the inn.

During that two week period, Nicolla slowly reawakened Gabrielle's memories of Tyrion's visit to their home, and the adventure surrounding the mysterious destruction of Cyerna.

The revelation of the horrors that she had witnessed in Cyerna were both fascinating and terrifying in equal measure. With each new revelation, the fragments that had tortured her mind became clear. She remembered the booming music in the dark, laser lit establishment that had been Silas's club on Tantarus Drift. The remark about the naked fox and the glass of water, a nonsensical phrase, had been a key or 'control phrase' to cause a telepathically induced catatonia, so Nicolla could suppress the memories of their experiences in order to protect them and the members of Old Number Seven from potential prosecution when they returned home.

Gabrielle had always been totally honest with her best friend. Now that she had reclaimed her old memories of that adventure, she was having a difficult time keeping the grisly details of Xena's ordeal to herself. Though her mind understood the reason, her heart despised the act.

As a result, she desperately sought for something to occupy her time, away from the others so she could process everything and make the right choice. In the end she found herself helping Merry in the archives, far beneath the palace.

She was surprised to discover Felix had already set up a small work place there as well. He spent hours in the library, scanning various documents into a data reader and running translation matrices, or studying maps of the surrounding lands.

He explained that he was downloading the documents to the data coil on the ship, so they could access them later, if needed, for military or just personal uses.

Gabrielle immediately volunteered to help and the two worked closely for many days, helping the diligent hobbit with the organization of various piled parchments, or translating texts from one language to another.

As they worked, they talked of many things, and through their conversations, a strong friendship began to blossom.

Tyrion and the rest of his people also appeared to acclimate to their strange and primitive surroundings. They spent days exploring the city and getting to know the people there.

When Gabrielle wasn't in the library, she spent the hours of Xena's recovery, sitting dutifully at her side, or helping her move about as she slowly regained her ability to walk. It took some time for her coordination to return. She had been immobile for nearly a month by the time the cure Felix had introduced finished its work.

Still, health and hope grew strong in them once more.

Early one morning, Xena left Gabrielle asleep in their room and stole out to the street. As she emerged, she saw Tyrion also emerge from the house, dressed only in a sleeveless shirt, shorts, and a pair of simple shoes.

"Good morning," he greeted her as she strode up to him. "How are you?"

"Much better, thanks," Xena replied.

"It's good to see you up on your feet again," Tyrion said casually. "You had all of us worried for a while there."

Xena smiled. She seemed reluctant to speak her thoughts.

Tyrion smiled knowingly. "Come on. Spill it."

"I never thanked you for helping Gabrielle," Xena said suddenly. "And I don't really know if I can ever repay you for that."

Tyrion looked down the street into the misty pre dawn morning. He breathed deep and sighed.

"I usually take a jog in the morning," he offered. "Down to the third ring of the city and back. It helps keep me in shape. I don't usually get to do it in clean surroundings." He looked at her appraisingly.

While Xena was on her feet again, and recovering well, she still appeared thinner than she should. "You might want to start working out again too, now that you can move."

He began to smile when she saw the challenge in her eyes.

Tyrion smiled. "Come on. We can take it easy and see how you're doing."

The two of them turned and began slowly jogging down towards the fifth ring of the city.

"You know," Tyrion said easily as they ran. "You never really told me anything about yourself the first time we met?"

"There really wasn't time," Xena replied. "You were busy working on Gabrielle, and then trying to get your ship fixed."

She stopped suddenly, as if her thought had fallen away.

"Yeah," Tyrion smiled. "I guess it was rather hectic, wasn't it."

"I saw Gabrielle looking at something the other day," Xena continued a few moments later. "It was a small piece of, what did she call it? Anyway, it had her picture on it, which was strange enough. She tried to hide it when she realized I was there."

Tyrion said nothing, but she could feel the eyes of the Warrior Princess boring into him.

"Gabrielle and I don't have secrets, Tyrion." Xena finished. "Now, I know something more happened when you met up with us. I can't recall what it was, but I know there's more to it than you helping me plan an assault on Cyerna and patching up my best friend."

"Do you?" Tyrion replied neutrally.

"You destroyed Alsydius and his army, didn't you," Xena said knowingly. "And then, somehow, you erased mine and Gabrielle's memory. Then you managed to drop my name to the locals and give me the credit for it."

"Okay," Tyrion answered neutrally.

They passed the next gate and entered the fourth ring of the city. They rounded the switch back and continued down. Tyrion could hear Xena puffing a little bit as she stayed even with him, despite what he considered a relaxed pace.

"What aren't you telling me, Tyrion?" Xena blurted suddenly. "Gabrielle hasn't been the same since the night of the feast with Aragorn's court."

Tyrion slowed to a halt and turned to look at Xena.

"I know," Xena puffed. "I know that she and Nicolla had a conversation before the feast the other day, and I saw the change in her mood from before we got there to when we arrived. She's been changing over the last couple weeks, and every time, it's after talking with Nicolla."

"Okay," Tyrion nodded.

"What did she tell Gabrielle?" Xena asked. "What happened during your little visit that was so terrible that she won't even talk with me about it? What happened to her?"

Tyrion stared into Xena's eyes for a long moment.

"Granted," he finally said. "She did see some things that would have left an impression on her, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it by a long shot."

"What did you do to her?" Xena asked. Tyrion could see the protective fire beginning to kindle in Xena's eyes. "If you hurt her!"

"I saved her ass," Tyrion said shortly. "Unfortunately, she saw the results of a one hundred and fifty meter sniper shot up close and personal…"

He sighed suddenly, shaking his head. "Damn, I got to keep my fraggin mouth shut!"

"I don't remember anything like that!" Xena protested.

"No, you don't!" Tyrion replied. He looked back up towards their distant lodgings. "Come on. Let's head back."

He began jogging back up the avenue towards the gate.

"What else did she see, Tyrion?" Xena demanded. "What else have you done to her?"

Tyrion stopped short and wheeled around.

"Did you ever stop to consider that we all know something you don't?" He asked. "There's something about that time and she wants to protect you from it, just like the rest of us, so sue me!" He turned and resumed his jog back up towards the house.

Xena stood there, stunned by the statement. A sense of dread knotted in her gut. Just behind that was the awkward sense that she had wronged someone without reason.

"Gods," she moaned. "I hate when that happens." She ran back up the street after Tyrion.

"Tyrion! Tyrion wait!"

The man stopped and turned back to face her as she caught back up to him.

"Gabrielle and I have never kept a secret from each other," she said. "We trust each other. I don't want that trust harmed because of something that I did, or something that I experienced, no matter how painful."

"I understand the sentiment," Tyrion started.

"Tyrion," Xena interrupted. "Even if you don't reawaken the memories of it, I still need to know. I don't want this to come between Gabrielle and me in the future for any reason. If that happens, it would hurt her more than it would hurt me."

"Don't be too sure of that," Tyrion muttered.

"Please," Xena said. "I told you I never thanked you for what you've done. I need to know what I am thanking you for."

Tyrion looked down at the pale smooth stone beneath their feet.

"Whether I tell you, or Nicky goes in your mind and shows you," he said slowly. "The place you'll go is very dark, and very unpleasant. Once you know, we can't undo it. That much neural juggling could hurt you or hurt Nicky."

The lump of dread in her gut solidified into icy certainty.

"Maybe you should tell me about it first, then."

Tyrion nodded. "Tell you what. You make the jog back up to the sixth level and we'll grab some breakfast and talk about it. Fair enough?"

The two of them sat across the small table in the room that served as the command center of the house.

Tyrion leaned back in the overstuffed chair and let his fingers absently tap the rim of his mug of caf.

Xena folded her arms across her chest and stared at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked.

"I was really hoping I'd leave you in the dust on the run back," Tyrion confessed. He smiled slightly, but there was no humor in it. He seemed to be searching for the right way to begin.

"As a soldier," he finally began. "We see things that ordinary people never see, or should never see. Atrocities committed in the name of victory, or vengeance are the most common, would you agree?"

Xena nodded.

"Like me and my team," Tyrion continued. "Sometimes your actions get you noticed and make you enemies."

"Tyrion," Xena interrupted him. "I already know that what you're holding back isn't pleasant. I can assume that it's pretty bad if you're unwilling to be straight with me about it, considering what we've both seen, as you put it. Stop skirting the subject."

"I'm 'skirting' it because it's fucking nasty, alright?" Tyrion snapped. He took a deep breath and sighed. "Sorry."

A movement near the archway caught their attention, and they both turned to see Nicolla walking into the room.

"Morning, cheerful," she said to Tyrion as she made straight for the caf dispenser.

"She wants to know," Tyrion said simply.

Nicolla froze before her finger could operate the lever that released the liquid from the heater. Her entire body went stiff.

She turned her green eyes on Xena and instantly read the resolve in her mind.

"Well," she sighed. "At least it'll be all out in the open."

She set the mug down and leaned back against the table.

"You sure about this?" she asked.

Xena perceived a sense of dread from the small woman.

"I'm sure," she nodded.

"Okay," Nicolla pulled a chair over to the table. "Hell of a way to wake up in the morning."

Tyrion sipped his caf and said nothing.

"Chief?" Nicolla asked.

Tyrion shrugged. "If she wants it, then go ahead."

Nicolla scooted forward on the chair. "Aye, aye, Master Chief," she muttered.

Xena turned to face Nicolla, as the smaller woman rubbed her fingertips together and took several deep breaths.

"Just relax," Nicolla said to Xena. "It's going to feel a little strange. Don't fight it."

Xena nodded. "Whenever you're ready."

Another deep breath and Nicolla reached her fingertips towards Xena's face.

"Morning kiddies!" a voice boomed from the open archway.

Nicolla nearly jumped out of her skin. Even Xena and Tyrion started visibly.

"God dammit Felix!" Nicolla blurted angrily. "What are you trying to do, scare me to death?"

The youthful soldier frowned. "I was getting some caf and heading back down into the archives, why? What's up?"

"My blood pressure, you moron!" Nicolla shot back.

Tyrion said nothing, merely opting to sip his caf and remain silent.

"Sorry," Felix muttered. "Jeez. Doesn't pay to be friendly around here anymore, that's for sure."

Nicolla sighed. "Just get your caf and go."

"Yeah, sure," Felix stepped up to the dispenser and filled two mugs, and then he headed for the door.

"Double dipping on the caf, Felix?" Tyrion asked.

"Nope," Felix replied. "One of them is for Gabrielle, if she's down there this morning."

"Gabrielle?" both Xena and Tyrion said at the same time.

"Yeah," Felix replied, his frown deepening. "Is there another problem? Like me getting caf for someone?"

"You two have been spending a lot of time in those archives," Tyrion said. Xena noticed, for the first time, a hint of fatherly disapproval in his tone.

"Yeah, so?" Felix replied. "You should see the load of documents they got in that place. They got records going back thousands of years."

"Keep it professional is all," Tyrion said evenly.

"Keep it," Felix started. Then he rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "No, Master Chief, we're going to have some caf, maybe a doughnut or two, and then we're going to go for it on the table! What are you thinking?"

Xena raised an eyebrow.

"Ratchet it down," Tyrion warned. "I'm just saying."

Felix looked at him for a moment, then at Xena and Nicolla in turn. He backed towards the front door with the two mugs in his hands.

"Yo, Mave!" He shouted on his way out.

"Yeah?" Mavon's voice rang from somewhere in the house.

"Be quiet on the way into the kitchen, bro! Nicky's in a mood and the boss has lost his noodle! The only sane one down here is Xena!" Felix warned loudly. "And that might have changed by the time you get here!"

"Thanks for the Intel!" Mavon's voice replied.

Felix nodded to the trio seated at the table and kicked the door open with his foot before backing out of the house.

Nicolla stared at the door after the young man, and then sighed. "Okay," she said to Xena. "Let's get this over with. You ready?"

Xena nodded.

Soft fingers touched her cheek and temple with gentle pressure.

"Here we go," Nicolla's voice seemed to whisper in her mind as much as she heard it with her ears. Then the world dissolved into a flash of white.

Somewhere in that brilliant enveloping white, someone began to scream.

The odor of musty parchment and dust drifted up the spiral stairs to meet him as Felix stepped down into the archive library of Minas Tirith.

Already she could hear the young hobbit, Merry, engaged in a discussion with Gabrielle.

"Morning kids!" he tried his greeting again. This time he received a more welcome response from the other two occupants of the room.

"Good morning, Mister Felix," Merry greeted cheerily.

"Hi there!" Gabrielle said, smiling expectantly.

"One mug of caf, straight up," Felix said as he set the steaming mug on the table before her. "Should have you dancing across the ceiling in about half an hour."

"You're a life saver," Gabrielle sighed, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug.

"So I've been told," Felix smiled. His eyes fell on the small platter next to Merry's wine goblet. Upon it were the remains of breakfast. There were still several pastries sitting on the plate.

Felix cleared his throat suddenly. "What we got here?" He asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Help yourself, Mister Felix," Merry offered. "Miss Gabrielle insisted that I leave something for you."

"Thanks," Felix reached over and grabbed one of the small confections and began munching upon it as he drew his equipment out of the bag he had left on the table from the previous day.

The data pad glowed to life and a list of items scrolled down before his eyes.

He set the small appliance on a three legged stand and let the entire system boot up.

"Sure glad we got the memory coil on the Phoenix spooled back up," he said thoughtfully. "There's no way we could have stored and translated all this with the memory I got on this thing."

"Yes," Merry said, raising his quill from the parchment he was writing upon. "I was curious about that. You were saying yesterday that this little device here can actually see and read the ancient languages?"

"More or less," Felix smiled. "The translations you gave me for the three primary languages helped immensely. Then all the computer does is extrapolate the translation from one document and apply it to the others in similar language bases. From there, a translation becomes available."

"So, the Sindarin, Westron, Quendi, and Numenorian languages are all known by this machine after a few days, in every variation?" Merry asked, astonished.

"Pretty much," Felix grinned as Gabrielle handed him another large roll of parchment to scan. "The nice thing about this is, if we end up in the field, we'll have all this knowledge to tap into, if we need it."

"How so?" Merry asked.

"Because Felix and the others can take these pads with them," Gabrielle offered. "The pads are connected to the computer on the ship. So, they can access anything we scan in here, from there, no matter where they are, right?"

"Top of the class," Felix smiled.

The data pad beeped, indicating that it was finished scanning the document before it.

"Okay," Felix entered a command and the image of the document shifted on the screen until it was converted to computer code. Suddenly, the words scrolled before his eyes, overlapping the symbolic writing of the original.

"Well, well," He said with a smile. "This is interesting. Check this out." He cleared his throat and began reading aloud.

"_Herein is recorded the rise of Sauron in the second age of Middle Earth, and the making of the Rings of Power…"_

Instantly the other two were at either side as he continued to read the chronicles of the fall of Minas-Ithil in the second age. It was a tale of great wars and terrible deeds. It spoke of the conquest of Minas-Tirith's twin city and its renaming as Minas-Morgul. How that place had become the seat of power for one of Sauron's greatest minions, the Lord of the Nazgul, chief of the Black Riders of Mordor.

As Felix continued to read, he was acutely conscious of how closely Gabrielle leaned next to him. He forced himself to focus on what he was reading, but the scent of her hair and the pressure of her shoulder against his arm was constantly distracting him.

He was almost relieved when the parchment ended, incomplete.

"That's all on this one," he sighed. Looking first to his left, at Merry and then to his right at Gabrielle. The two of them paused for a moment when their eyes met. Deep green penetrated flinty gray. There was a sudden, almost overwhelming pull that he felt. Their lips were almost close enough to…

It was immediately apparent that Gabrielle had felt the same thing as well.

With great effort, Felix stood up, breaking the spell and putting a little distance between them.

Gabrielle blinked and suddenly flushed as she turned away.

"We need to find the next one," she offered lamely.

Merry looked back and forth between them. A mischievous grin began to appear on his lips.

"You know," he said with as much subtlety as he could muster. "I think we need another plate down here. I'll be back in a tick."

He swept up the empty plate and headed for the stairs.

"Um, no, wait," Felix blurted. "It's alright. I'm not hungry."

Gabrielle's own protests mingled with Felix's. "I've had enough, really. I'm fine. Merry!"

The hobbit was gone.

The two of them looked at one another and suddenly a nervous laugh burst from both of them.

"We sound pathetic, don't we," Felix said with a shrug.

"Completely," Gabrielle replied, flushing.

"Okay," Felix clapped his hands loudly and rubbed them together, scanning the various shelves and pigeon holes. "We need to find the next page."

The two of them turned and almost bumped into each other as they each made for the same cluster of documents, stuffed into a nearby shelf.

"Sorry," Felix said.

"Excuse me," Gabrielle said at the same time.

They moved to one side, and then the other. And then they both laughed aloud again.

"This is ridiculous," Felix said, turning back to the data pad. "We've been working down here for damn near two weeks, and now we're going gaga over each other."

"Who said I'm gaga over you?" Gabrielle retorted with a smile.

"That's my point," Felix gestured to her with his open hand. "We've been down here too long, and two people, working in close proximity on something they both find fascinating."

"Makes it easier to get along," Gabrielle offered.

"From a perfectly normal, platonic viewpoint, yes," Felix babbled. He paused for a moment. Was that his heart he heard thundering in his ears?

"Exactly," Gabrielle nodded.

Felix moved to the opposite side of the chamber, near the stairs. He began scanning the shelves, looking for similar parchments in size and color, when his eyes caught the hint of movement a few steps up, in the shadows.

There he saw Merry, seated on the steps with a fresh platter of food and a huge grin on his face.

The hobbit did his best to make it appear as if he had just rounded the turn in the stairs, but it was no good. Felix recognized the action for what it was.

"So?" Merry asked as innocently as he could. "Any luck?"

"You're a little shit," Felix grinned. "You know that?"

Merry placed the fresh provisions on his table. "No need to thank me," he offered with a grin.

"I think this might look promising," Gabrielle offered. She stepped up upon a rickety old stool and stretched out her fingers towards another parchment.

"Have a care," Merry began, but it was too late. The old wood cracked and the young bard flailed her arms wildly as she teetered backward.

Felix dropped the bundle of documents in his arms and rushed forward, dropping to one knee to receive the tumbling girl.

Gabrielle fell backwards, right into his arms.

"I gotcha!" Felix grunted when she hit him. She looked up and there he was, his eyes boring into hers again, and that same, almost irresistible attraction.

"You okay?" Felix asked lamely.

"Yeah," Gabrielle replied breathlessly. "You?"

"No problem," Felix smiled.

The words ran out, and suddenly their lips were being drawn closer and closer in spite of any reservation the two of them may have had.

Gabrielle's eyes closed in anticipation.

"What the hell am I doing?" Felix's mind protested, but all the fight was burned out of him.

Suddenly a voice blurted in his ear.

"Felix, get up topside, quick!"

Felix blinked and stiffened.

Gabrielle's eyes snapped open and he could see the disappointment there for only an instant. He stood the young bard up and tapped his earpiece.

"What's up chief?"

"Get topside! We got an incursion!"

"Moving!" He looked at Gabrielle, whose eyes widened at his expression.

The three of them rushed up the stairs and into a crowd of scrambling guards.

"Topside!" Felix called. "What's your local?"

"Tier seven, east of the promenade," Tyrion replied. "And I am engaged."

"Engaged?" Felix thought. "We're at the top of a god damned mountain full of allies, how could he be engaged?"

Over the coms, he heard Tyrion's voice again.

"I have three, repeat three, on horseback, at the fifth level," his voice was calm and steady. "I'll take a shot if I get it."

"Confirmed." Felix replied. "Silas, Mavon, where are you?"

"What's going on?" Gabrielle asked.

Silas's voice boomed over the com. "We're moving!"

There was a sharp report that caused Gabrielle to jump in recognition. It was the sound of Tyrion's sniper rifle.

Felix heard Tyrion's voice. "Target two is down."

"On it!" Silas replied.

"What was snatched, Chief?" Mavon's voice called out.

"Something from the royal treasury," Tyrion replied. "Stand by."

A few seconds later, Felix heard Tyrion grunt with frustration.

"Too many friendlies," he confessed. "I have no shot."

"Boss," Felix stopped at the entrance of the citadel. "What's their location?"

"Tier four, past the tunnel," Tyrion replied. "They'll be out of range when they make the next switchback."

"Well, what about securing those gates?" Mavon called angrily.

"Their ahead of the signal relay." Tyrion replied. "Damn, those boys can ride!"

Tyrion's eye was jammed into the scope on his rifle, his entire body tense, waiting for the right moment to squeeze the trigger.

Aragorn leaned forward as Tyrion's lips began to move.

"Come on….come on you son of a bitch…give me a shot…just one clear shot…"

A simple demonstration for the king had gone straight down the tubes. He had just gotten ready to fire his first shot at an old pitcher, resting near the rear of the citadel grounds, when the ruckus had begun and a guard had rushed up hurriedly informing the king of the break in.

There had been five perpetrators. They had robbed the treasury. One of them had been killed by the guards within the palace. The remaining four had stolen horses from the royal stables and were galloping madly for the exit to the grounds when they had emerged from the side of the palace.

Tyrion had shouted for them to halt, seen a crossbow in the hand of one rider, swinging towards him. He hadn't hesitated.

The bolt, which had been aimed for the king, went sailing off uselessly to one side as the rider, struck in the chest by Tyrion's shot, had rolled back in the saddle and fallen to the pavement.

A second man with another crossbow had killed the trumpeter near the entrance, letting the used weapon fall to the pavers.

The remaining three hadn't even slackened their pace, bursting through the gates, nearly riding down the king and Tyrion, and dashing down the sixth tier avenue towards the first switchback. Guards yelled for the sentries at the gate to seal it against the intruders escape, but they had been too slow. The three bandits barreled through the gate, past the house that Tyrion and his party occupied, nearly riding down Silas and Xena as they emerged.

Instantly, the two had commandeered a couple of horses and joined the detachment of guards in pursuit.

"We've reached the second hostile," Silas's voice boomed in the earpiece. "No package, repeat no package."

"Roger that," Tyrion replied. His body was craned out as far as he could reach, holding the rifle pointed at the distant avenue on the third level.

"Chief," Felix's voice came over the earpiece. "I know how to get to the first level ahead of them."

"Stand by," Tyrion replied as he caught the hint of movement near the tunnel. The two remaining riders burst from concealment and began popping in and out between the various buildings on the avenue.

"Mavon!" Felix's voice called. "I need my TAC vest, MP9, and my drop pack, now!"

Mavon actually sounded happy. "You got it. On my way."

"Come on you bastard," Tyrion grumbled. "Just give me one shot."

Every time he saw the targets, they were surrounded by scattering pedestrians.

"Dammit!" Tyrion cursed. He hit the com switch. "This is Lead; I have no shot, repeat no shot!"

Felix tapped his earpiece as Mavon came dashing up with his arms full of gear.

"Request permission to fly, Chief," he asked, looking at Gabrielle.

Quickly, Mavon helped him shrug into the heavy combat vest and then the bigger cloth pack that attached to his back.

"Check," Mavon said after he finished an inspection and patted Felix on the shoulder. The two spun around and Felix inspected the pack on Mavon's back.

"Check," he repeated and then he hit the com switch. "How about it chief?"

"You're clear." Tyrion replied.

"Copy," Felix smiled.

Mavon was grinning like a banshee. "I've been wanting to do this since we got here."

The two men clipped the compact rifles to the front of their vests.

"Felix," Gabrielle began. What are you about to-?"

She didn't finish because Felix suddenly stepped up to her, taking her face in his hands and kissed her deeply and passionately.

Gabrielle felt her heart stop in shock and exhilaration.

Then they were parted, and Felix was grinning.

"Been waiting two weeks to do that," he confessed. He tapped the switch on his ear piece. "Chief, Angels are flying."

He and Mavon turned and ran full speed down the long promenade towards the perilous drop off at the end.

Gabrielle blinked and then felt panic rise when she saw where they were heading.

"Felix!" she cried in horror. "Wait!"

She ran after them.

The two soldiers never slackened their pace. They vaulted down the narrow steps towards the low portion of the stone wall and then, with a cry, the two men flung themselves over the precipice and vanished.

Gabrielle screamed in horror as she watched the two men vanish over the edge. It was a plummet of thousands of feet to the rooftops below.

On the south side palace wall, Aragorn's eyes widened in surprise. "My God!" He exclaimed.

"They're taking the express elevator to the first floor." Tyrion replied, lifting his rifle and snapping the safety switch.

Gabrielle ran to the edge and looked down in time to see both men falling towards the distant ground. Then there was a popping noise and two massive sheets of black fabric opened up behind the falling bodies. They turned lazily and made for the main entrance court of the city, down on the first level.

Gabrielle's heart was hammering in her ears. Her breath was coming in rapid, shallow gasps and her eyes were wide in shock and fear.

The two figures floated lazily towards the surface below until she lost clear sight of them.

In a flash of remembered inspiration, she turned and ran as fast as she could.

She found Tyrion standing poised at the edge of the rail, his rifle scope once again jammed in his eye.

At his hip, she saw what she was looking for.

"They're passing the second tier tunnel, on their way to the final turn for the main entrance." Tyrion said easily.

Gabrielle snatched the spotter's glasses from his hip.

"What the?" Tyrion looked quickly to the side of the intrusion.

"I need these!" Gabrielle replied, hitting the switch and holding the glasses to her eyes.

With the reawakening of her memories, the knowledge of the instruments that Tyrion and his men used had also returned. It had been one of the small gifts that Nicolla had given to the young bard, in order to allow her to more easily assimilate herself into the culture of their home.

Gabrielle expertly hit the small controls, zooming the image in upon the small floating figures.

Through the magnified image, she could see Felix and Mavon touch gently down in the main courtyard.

The two men hit something on the front of their vests and the large chutes detached, blowing away from them in the breeze.

Mavon turned and shouted orders to several passers by to grab the fabric, while Felix ran towards the main gate, gesturing wildly for them to close it.

After a few moments, in which the surrounding populace recovered from the shock of two men dropping easily from the sky, they began to move. The massive gates began to slide closed.

Felix watched as the men in the colors of the guard ran helter skelter, sealing the gate and setting up defenses.

"Chief?" He called. "Give me a location!"

"Rounding the bend towards the final decent to you," Tyrion reported. "They're going to be coming down the south avenue, repeat south avenue, not the main one to the east."

"Confirmed," Felix called, releasing his weapon from his vest and switching the safety to FIRE.

"Mave!" he called and he pointed with two fingers towards the narrower, avenue.

The two men took up position on either side of the street, waving the confused population out of harms way.

"Move it!" Mavon shouted angrily. "Get inside!"

In the distance, they could hear the clattering of hooves approaching.

"We got incoming," Mavon called over the com.

"You'll have two targets, repeat, two targets," Tyrion called.

"R.O.E., Chief?" Felix asked.

There was a moment's pause.

"Take them down hard," Tyrion ordered.

From her position next to Tyrion, Gabrielle looked up at him in shock.

"What?"

Quietly, she heard Felix reply. "Confirmed. Stand by."

Aragorn looked at Tyrion in wonder.

"You're speaking to your men?" He asked. He pointed at the coms headset hooked against Tyrion's left ear. "Through those?"

"Yes, sir," Tyrion nodded. He watched the two horses turn down the avenue heading right for his men.

"They're coming to you, about three hundred meters and closing fast."

Gabrielle slapped the binoculars back against her eyes and locked on the two men far below.

Felix tightened his grip on his gun. "Yeah, we hear them. Stand by."

Both men raised their weapons and waited.

The sound of horse's hooves echoed down the avenue like staccato thunder. Over that, they heard one of the horse whinny.

"Here we go," Mavon said tightly.

The two riders burst into view, clothed in dark cloaks and hoods that rippled like wings in the wind.

The horses snorted and cried as their shoed feet struck sparks on the pale pavers.

The two men stood up in view of the riders and raised their weapons.

"Hold!" someone shouted from behind them.

The fleeing riders paid no heed to the call.

"Son of a," Felix cursed as he took aim and squeezed the trigger.

The stone lined streets echoed with the staccato thunder of several short bursts.

From her vantage, high above the city, Gabrielle saw the fiery flashes from the muzzles of the two weapons.

One of the riders bent double in the saddle and fell to the street, rolling several times before coming to a halt amidst a toppled cart.

The second one hunkered down behind the neck of his horse.

Felix shot a quick burst into the breast of the charging beast, heard it scream in pain and fear, and then the whole mass of rider and mount was tumbling wildly out of control towards him.

His eyes went wide. "Not good!"

Felix dove for cover behind one of the massive arched pillars that shaded one of the building entrances.

The corpse of the horse, with rider still in tow, slammed into the pillar with bone crushing force and a sickening, squelching crunch.

Felix rolled back out into the street and stepped carefully towards the wreckage. His weapon remained poised on the corpse, but it was obvious that the poor animal was dead, its spine snapped in the collision with the pillar. The entire lower half of the white stone was awash in crimson.

Mavon stepped quickly over to the body near the wagon, rolling it over with his toe.

The man rolled over and Mavon sighed when he saw the remains of the man's face. There wasn't much left that was recognizable.

"Clear," he said. He moved to cover Felix.

The second suspect had somehow remained in the saddle, and subsequently, had been smashed between the dead beast and the unyielding stone.

He was still moving as Felix stepped around the pillar and into sight. He winced in sympathy.

The man was dead. He just didn't realize it yet. Hs entire lower body had been pulverized by the impact of the two thousand pound animal beneath him. He looked like an insect, half crushed in the pavement. Blood covered the lower half of his face, and his eyes were clear and unnaturally calm.

"Got a live one!" he called over the com. Then he took his hand off the send switch. "Sort of." He finished.

"What happened?" The man asked, looking up at him in wonder. "I saw. I saw you fall from the sky."

Felix knelt down opposite the man and the grotesque mess around him.

"Yeah, I did," Felix nodded.

"Felix," Tyrion's voice came over his com. "What's the condition of your prisoner?"

Felix sighed and tapped his earpiece. "He's terminal."

"Look for a bag or a box," Tyrion instructed. "And ask your friend what happened to the crown."

Felix looked at the man, absently playing his bloody fingers against the broken body of the horse atop him.

"Where's the crown?" he asked gently.

The man looked up at him calmly. "The crown? Oh." He seemed to consider for a moment. "It's not here." He looked about him in an innocent show of seeking for something. "I did not have it." Then he looked at Felix again with such calm that the young man felt a knot form in his gut. "How do you fly, Master?"

"What do you mean?" Felix pressed calmly.

"It's gone," the dying man replied. "I held it in my hands, and then it was gone. Perhaps the Haradrim have it now."

"The Haradrim?"

The man smiled. "Ah, the Haradrim…riders of the great Mumakil. A wonder to behold…in…the great…the great…..fiery sunlight…"

"What are you talking about?" Felix asked as the man's head fell forward to his chest.

"Who is Haradrim?" Felix pressed. "Hey, hey, not yet."

He reached out to the man but his pupils had dilated and he no longer moved.

When Felix checked, the man had no pulse.

"Son of a bitch," Felix muttered.

"Chief," he called over the com. "We have no package. I repeat, no package."

"They must have ditched it somewhere before they reached this lower level," Mavon added.

Tyrion lowered his weapon. His eyes were dark and hard. He looked back at Aragorn and slowly shook his head.

"None of those riders had it," he confessed.

"Impossible!" Aragorn replied. "We saw it in the possession of one of them when they made their dash for the gate."

Tyrion considered for a moment. "Who is Haradrim?"

Aragorn frowned. "The Haradrim are a race of people that live to the east and south of Gondor. They are nomads, desert dwellers. They served the forces of Sauron in the last war, but I have since been able to negotiate a peace with them."

"And none of them objected to that peace?" Tyrion asked.

Aragorn gave a slight shrug. "There are always those who would rather have war. But in this case, they were few.

Tyrion saw several guards preparing to bear the body of the first thief to fall. They had the body covered and were just lifting it.

"Hold on!" Tyrion shouted. Then he turned to the king. "Sir, would you look at something please?"

"Of course," Aragorn nodded.

The two stepped over to the body, and Tyrion lifted the cover. The two men stared down at the face of the dead man lying before them.

"Is he one of these Haradrim?" Tyrion asked.

Aragorn studied the young face for a moment, and then shook his head. "He does not bear the countenance of one of the Haradrim," he said. "And he is not tattooed as their warriors usually are."

"Sir," Tyrion asked. "Would it be possible for your men to bring the bodies to our quarters? A closer inspection of them may give us an idea where they come from."

"Of course." Aragorn nodded to the two guards and they bore the body away.

"Another thing," Tyrion continued. "What was this crown that was stolen? I know you didn't really have time to explain it before."

"It was the crown of the Witch King of Angmar, the Master of Minas Morgul, Lord of the Nazgul. He fell in battle on the Pelannor Fields, hewn down by the lady Eowyn and the Halfling, Merriadoc Brandybuck." Aragorn explained. "The crown was saved from the battlefield and deposited in the deepest vaults of the treasury of Gondor, so that none would ever don that accursed mantle again. It has strange powers, or so it is said."

Tyrion nodded. Then he tapped his coms. "People, I want the four hostiles brought up to the house for inspection and prepare a structure by structure search of everything on the west side of the rock formation."

"What?" Mavon retorted. "Every structure? That'll take forever!"

Felix looked down at the gory mess before him and sighed. He tapped his earpiece.

"Um, chief?" he called. "If you want this one, we'll need a stretcher, mop, and bucket."

"Do what you have to do," Tyrion replied. "Just bring him and all his belongings up to the house, pronto."

Felix sighed. "Wilco."

Mavon stepped up next to his friend and grimaced. "Why do we always get the nasty jobs?"

Felix shook his head.

In the main room of the house, two of the bodies were laid out upon the floor.

Both men were dressed in simple garb, a tunic, breeches, and boots.

The only component of their clothing that did not vary was the long dark, heavy traveling cloak that they wore.

Xena knelt next to the bodies, expertly going over them, removing personal effects and setting them carefully aside for later scrutiny.

Tyrion, Gabrielle, and Silas stood or leaned against the nearby wall, while Nicolla could be heard in another room as she inspected the items removed from the first corpse.

There was a knock on the door and in walked Mavon and Felix. Their hands and lower arms were covered in blood as they bore a stretcher that was half sodden with crimson.

"Felix!" Gabrielle exclaimed. "Gods, are you alight?"

"Well," Mavon said. "We can't do you two perps, but we can do you about one and a half."

"We're fine," Felix replied thickly.

They moved past the startled trio and set the ruined stretcher down next to the other two.

Xena looked down at the mess and back up at Felix.

The young man shrugged and offered a wry smile. "Knock yourself out."

The two men withdrew and returned bearing a second stretcher with a more intact and somewhat less messy body.

Tyrion stepped around the corpses and lifted the damp blanket. Gabrielle and Silas saw him grimace before letting the blanket fall back over the mess.

"What the hell happened?"

Mavon shrugged. "Poor bastard ended up between a horse and a hard place."

Silas frowned.

Felix shrugged. "I had no shot on the rider so I took down the horse. The rest is physics."

"But you're alright?" Gabrielle asked again.

Felix nodded. "Now, if you all will excuse us?"

"Some of us desperately need to bathe," Mavon finished.

The two men withdrew.

Tyrion watched the two subordinates go, and then his eyes fixed on the young bard. He saw in her face, the open concern, which was not unusual, but in her eyes, he could also discern something deeper.

When he looked over at Xena, he saw her gaze fixed on the bloody covering over the third body.

Gabrielle recognized an expression that she had rarely seen in her friend before. It was a haunted expression. One that spoke of remembered pain.

She moved over next to Xena and gently touched her arm.

"Hey?" She asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

Xena blinked, as if returning from some distant memory.

"What?" She said, and then she forced a grim smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay."

Gabrielle studied Xena for a moment. "You know, don't you."

Xena nodded.

"Wanna talk about it?" Gabrielle offered.

"Maybe later," Xena replied, putting on a strong front. "Right now, we need to deal with this."

Gabrielle looked over at Tyrion and saw understanding in his expression when their eyes locked. He nodded.

"Take a break, you two," he said. "Silas and I can handle this."

"I'm fine," Xena said a little more harshly than she intended. Her pale blue eyes locked on his dark ones, and for a moment, the two of them vied for dominance. In a contest between equals, however, stalemate was the only result.

"Xena," Gabrielle offered with a gentle tug on her arm. "Let's go get some air. I need to talk to you."

Xena looked down at her friend and saw that this was no ruse. After a moment, she nodded.

Once Xena and Gabrielle were gone, Tyrion looked over at his friend and sighed.

Silas smiled. "Well, it's all out of the bag now, boss."

"Yeah," Tyrion nodded. He knelt down beside the last body.

"Ah hell," Tyrion muttered as he turned and lifted the blanket on the last body. There was barely anything left of that one's face. "Why are those two always so messy?"

Mavon dunked his hands in the water and scrubbed the drying blood from his flesh.

"So," he said casually, after checking to see that no one was in the hallway beyond. "That was an interesting little stunt you pulled."

Felix smiled as he also scrubbed his hands. "Which part? The 'flying through the air' thing or the 'dodging the horse' thing

"I was thinking, the whole 'kissing the girl' thing, myself," Mavon replied with an easy grin. "Nice move, by the way. Now, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on?"

Felix shrugged. "I don't know, Mave. I just…we've been working in close proximity for the last two weeks and all. There's a lot of information down in that place and just over the course of time, you start talking. You can't do that and not get to know someone, right?"

"I read you," Mavon nodded, his smile lost some of its mischief. "But you best watch your six, bro."

"I know, I know," Felix nodded. Then he turned and looked at his friend. "Just don't let the chief know about it, alright. Especially after I rubbed his nose in it this morning."

"Hey," Mavon held up his hands in surrender. "I am not even here. This is your gig. I'm just around for the show."

Mavon poured out the soiled water and refilled the basin before resuming scrubbing. "So," he went on. "How serious is it?"

"It isn't," Felix replied. "Up on that shelf, that was the first time I even kissed her." He took a deep breath.

"Ah," Mavon nodded, and some of his sarcasm returned. "Set the stage right on that one then." He chuckled under his breath.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Felix replied, frowning at his friend.

"Oh come on now," Mavon smiled. "You're getting ready for the ultimate BASE jump, in front of an audience, you know that she doesn't have a clue about what's going to happen, and then you plant one on her and we nose dive off a cliff for dramatic effect. Tell me that wasn't part of your master plan."

Felix said nothing for a long moment, and then his own grin began to assert itself.

"Okay," he admitted. "But you got to admit, it was a good way to make use of the situation."

"Back to basic rules of strategy?" Mavon asked. "Combat is fluid, use what resources become available in order to best achieve your set goals."

Felix shrugged.

"Do you have any clue as to how much shit you are in right now?" Mavon continued.

Felix's self assured smile melted away.

"Just remember, junior," Mavon finished as he dried his hands. "I know absolutely nothing."

Felix stood before the basin of water and looked down at his reflection for a long moment.

A sense of resignation finally settled in his gut. It was a feeling of certainty more powerful than dread, with less discomfort.

"Well," he said to the face staring back up at him. "Whatever happens, happens."

Gabrielle noted that Xena didn't relax until they were out in the street. The Warrior took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

Gabrielle watched Xena closely. "They showed you," she said after a few moments. "Everything that happened. You remember, don't you."

Xena nodded. "I remember."

Gabrielle stepped closer and wrapped an arm about Xena's waist.

Xena shrugged out of the comforting embrace.

"I'm fine, Gabrielle," she lied. "Really."

"Really?" Gabrielle replied.

Xena took a deep breath. "Yeah, really. It happened. It wasn't pleasant, but it's over with. Besides, Tyrion and his crew fixed me up as good as new. Better I think. I don't have that problem with my right knee any more either."

Gabrielle felt the gentle ache as she heard the lies issue from Xena's mouth.

"Xena," she started.

"Just don't worry about it, okay?" Xena cut her off. "We have other things to do, like figure out what's going on with this place."

"Okay," Gabrielle nodded. "But I'm here, if you ever need to talk."

Xena smiled. "I know."

The evidence was sorted, organized and compiled. Images of various items that each of the assailants possessed were digitally recorded and stored for later scrutiny, and the bodies examined. All of this fell under the prevue of Felix's technical expertise, so the young medic was left for several hours.

The bodies had been removed by a local undertaker. Most likely, they would be buried in a mass pauper's grave beyond the city walls, instead of the usual custom of being entombed within the city.

It was early evening before he was finished with his task. The group gladly accepted an invitation to dine in the citadel of Minas Tirith with the King and Queen.

The feast was a pleasant diversion after the excitement of the day. Xena, Gabrielle, Tyrion, and the rest all enjoyed a marvelous repast.

After the feasting, there were the minstrels, singing ancient songs, and bards recounted tales old and new.

Xena remained at the table for some time, though she ate little, and said even less. She had a contemplative, slightly haunted expression on her face.

After a while, she excused herself and departed. Gabrielle watched her depart, feeling the inner turmoil that was written on her friends face.

"You okay?" Felix asked, sitting next to her.

Gabrielle looked into his eyes and smiled suddenly. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just worried about Xena."

Felix's smile faded a bit. "Well, she has a lot to sort through, Gabs. That Alsydius was pretty sadistic, and he really let loose on her. I think she'll be alright, given time. Just be there when she finally does want to talk."

Gabrielle nodded and accepted a goblet of wine. "I know. It's just so hard to be around when we're down in that library, sorting through all those papers and books…"

"Then take a break from it for a few days," Felix offered. "I can scan those papers easily enough on my own."

Gabrielle sighed.

"I'm not saying I won't miss having you down there to keep me company," Felix added in a whisper. He gave her a friendly grin. "But you need to focus on her for the time being."

"Thanks for understanding," Gabrielle replied. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, without even thinking about it.

Felix nodded and turned back to his plate. That was when he saw Tyrion, seated near the end of the table, looking at him with a stern expression.

Xena took the time to explore the citadel for a bit. During her meanderings, she came across one of the little people she had been introduced to, the hobbit called Pippin.

He was dressed in the livery of the tower, walking a circuit of one of the outer wings.

"Good evening, Miss Xena," he greeted cheerfully. "How are you this evening?"

"Fine," Xena smiled. She looked over the small man to the dim corridor beyond.

"Not one for feasting and royal celebrations and all that?" Pippin offered.

Xena smiled. "Something like that."

Xena's mind was still reeling from the revelations that Nicolla had unlocked earlier that morning. The horror of her imprisonment and torture were wearing down upon her, now that she had time to consider them. The blending of recalled images along with the remembered pain of her ordeal had taken on a nightmarish quality that didn't seem real. Her mind knew the facts, and yet, because of the way that Tyrion and his people had healed her after that torture, her body had no visible memories. All of her scars from that incident were hidden beneath the surface.

Pippin saw the distraction in her gaze. "Excuse me," he offered. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Xena blinked and suppressed a shiver. "Yes, I'm fine."

Pippin eyed her closely, and for an instant, Xena felt uneasy under his curious gaze. Then the hobbit's infectious smile reappeared and he let out a deep breath.

"Well," he shrugged. "If ever you change your mind, Miss Xena, I will be happy to listen. In fact, I know you've heard tales of everything that's happened in Gondor and the Shire, and Rohan. But we've yet to hear anything from your lands. One thing a hobbit can't get enough of, apart from a good meal, is stories and songs."

Xena smiled in spite of her inner torment. "Maybe some other time," she offered. "If you want stories, though, you might want to find Gabrielle. I'm sure she'd be happy to tell you about everything the two of us have done."

She turned to go, but the hobbits sympathetic voice stopped her in her tracks.

"It always gets better, Miss Xena," Pippin said suddenly. "Even if it never goes away."

Xena paused for only a moment, and then she vanished around a corner.

"Psst!" A voice hissed behind him. Pippin turned and found Merry, leaning out of the entrance to one of the royal guest apartments. "Come on!"

Grinning, Pippin checked once more to be sure that the Warrior Princess had truly departed, and then he ducked quickly into the open doorway.

Within the luxurious front sitting room, there was a long table, laden with food and drink.

Merry sat at one end, already filling a plate full of food.

Grinning, Pippin poured himself a tall goblet of wine and began helping himself to the large portion of roast bacon, cheese, and bread.

"Well done, Merry." He commented after taking a sip of the wine.

"Thank you," Merry nodded graciously. "There were so many casks of wine and platters of food, I didn't think they'd miss a few minor necessities."

"Of course not," Pippin replied in mid chew.

Gabrielle sat near the end of the table, absently listening to the conversations around her. Tyrion, Nicolla, Silas, Felix, and Mavon were all discussing their findings with the king and plying him with question after question regarding the various objects that Felix was displaying on his data pad.

"Hold a moment," Aragorn said suddenly as the image of a broach appeared on the screen.

"Sir?" Tyrion perked up.

"I know this object," Aragorn said. "A broach from a Rohan cloak."

"Rohan?" Hallas also stood, moving to stand near the king.

"Indeed," Aragorn handed the pad to the younger man. "What do you make of this, Hallas?"

The young horseman studied the image closely. "A broach of the Eolingas, to be certain, My Lord. Though I cannot fathom why one of my people would attack Minas Tirith?"

"They did not," Aragorn replied easily. "Just as it was not the Haradrim."

"Whoever those boys were," Felix offered. "They definitely knew how to ride. They very well could have been from Rohan."

Hallas's eye darkened at that statement. "None of the Eolingas would dare betray the ancient alliance between our peoples."

Felix held up his hands in surrender. "I'm only saying that these men may have been trained in Rohan, that's all."

Hallas resumed his seat, still clearly displeased with the insinuation that one of his own people might have been responsible.

"Whoever these guys were," Tyrion said slowly. "They knew the layout of the palace, how to get past the guards. They had everything planned out with precision that I have to admire."

"We still haven't figured out how they got the damn thing out of the city," Silas grumbled.

"The men have searched every building in the city, Master Silas," Aragorn said. "It is not within the confines of Minas Tirith."

He took a drink and looked at Hallas.

"We have a more pressing issue, at present," he said. "While it is true that Master Hallas, here, did come on an errand of mercy, bringing Xena and Gabrielle to us here in Gondor, he also came with news that has disturbed me greatly."

Aragorn rose and strode away from the table. "The scouts I sent to search the lands of Rohan have returned with news."

"What news, My Lord?" Hallas asked.

"King Eomer has requested any aid that we may spare, to assist him in the securing of his lands, and we shall give it," Aragorn said. "Two of my scouts endured the dangerous road to Edoras and returned. Eomer's forces have been split in two. His holdings at the Hornburg have been cut off, and his garrison at the Tree Garden of Orthanc has been lost."

"Lost to whom, My Lord?" Hallas asked.

"We do not know," Aragorn admitted. "No scout sent to learn the tale has returned."

At those words, Tyrion noticed the change in expression on the rest of his team's faces.

Each of them seemed on the verge of saying something, or willing him, as their superior officer, to make an offer.

"I think my people may be able to help with that," Tyrion finally said.

Aragorn's eyebrow rose in surprise. "You would be willing to aid us in this?"

Tyrion shrugged. "You've sheltered the people that landed with us, and taken in my friends." He looked at the others and then back at Aragorn. "That's worth at least a quick walk around the park."

"Given what I have seen with my own eyes these past days," Aragorn nodded. "I deem that you could be of great assistance to us in this troubled time. How long do you require for preparation?"

"We can leave whenever you're ready," Tyrion replied easily.

"Very well," Aragorn replied.

"There are conditions," Tyrion added quickly. That statement brought the entire table to absolute silence.

Aragorn's eyes narrowed. "And they would be?"

"We will respect the chain of command with regards to your troops," Tyrion said carefully. "However, my team and I will not be under your general's command."

"And why would that be?" Aragorn asked.

"Very simply, sir," Tyrion explained. "You're general, and in fact, your world, would not know how best to utilize the people of my team to their fullest potential any more than I would be able to utilize you're men to their fullest potential, since I am unfamiliar with your world's type of warfare."

Aragorn considered that for a moment, recalling all he had witnessed from Tyrion and his people. He finally nodded.

"I understand," he said. "You shall accompany the troops, however, you shall not be under their command. Is there anything else?"

"Nope," Tyrion shook his head. "That about does it."

Aragorn turned to one of the sable clad guards.

"Have General Palanthus report to me at once," he ordered. "And have a sortie of two thousand on horse prepared to set forth in seven days time."

The guard saluted by thumping his fist upon his chest.

"My Lord," he replied sharply. Then he turned a departed.

"Okay people," Tyrion said when they arrived back at the home that evening. "Prep for Covert Long Range Insertion. That means everything we could possibly need, prepped and packed."

"It means seventy-five pound packs," Mavon moaned.

"Yup," Tyrion nodded. "We'll need support equipment, med supplies, extra mags, rechargers, and some of the heavy weapons. Since we'll have some draft animals for mobility, lets plan on a taking the Tripod Repeaters as well."

Silas grinned. "You planning on setting up a pill box, Master Chief?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it," he finished.

"Hoo ha, Master Chief," Silas nodded.

The necessary equipment was pulled from their various storage crates and cases. Most of their gear had been provided by Silas, who aside from being a respected club owner also ran a highly respected, albeit legally questionable arms business. Ever since Tyrion's last encounter with Xena and Gabrielle, Silas had insisted on fully outfitting the Phoenix for any contingency. This had meant a second, rather covert refit, shifting inner bulkhead walls in to create easily concealable storage spaces large enough to accommodate Silas's gifts.

The end result had been what the big man had desired. They had as much firepower available to them now as they did when they were enlisted in the service. Not standard gear for an outfit whose primary function was disaster response and rescue.

Gabrielle stood on the balcony overlooking the city. The late evening breeze flowed through her hair and the city below twinkled with the lights of countless candles.

She looked up at the stars and sighed contentedly. After more than a month in this place, the strangeness of her surroundings was wearing away to a point where, if she must, she could call this strange place home.

That revelation shocked her. The mere fact that she could contemplate never returning home surprised her. But the fact that she was willing to accept that possibility so easily seemed to be even more surprising.

Still, the simple beauty of the plains, stretching out far below, and the wondrous architecture made the idea very tempting.

She frowned as she noticed the lights coming from the house that Tyrion's people occupied.

It was always easy to discern which one was theirs. The lights shining behind the windows, or bleeding out through the cracks in the closed shutters was always far too bright to be from mere firelight. The illumination flashed several times at each opening, indicating a lot of movement within the house. Her frown deepened as a shadow, probably Silas, judging by the size, stepped into view and then lifted something that blotted out the entire window.

She was just getting ready to march down there and find out what all the commotion was about, when the door on the upper level courtyard opened and Felix stepped out into the moonlight.

He wore only a pair of loosely fitting pants. His skin seemed to shine in the moonlight. He found a chair, sat, and kicked his feet up, resting them upon the rail.

Gabrielle strained to see what he was doing as he drew something up and set it in his lap.

He led a data pad in his hand and was using the input wand to make notations or entries of some sort.

"Probably going over all the documents he copied into the computer," Gabrielle thought as she watched him. She began smiling in spite of herself as she studied his face in the moonlight. He had the most wonderful, contemplative expression etched into his features. She leaned down against the stone railing and watched him as he worked.

Felix was a lithely built, athletic man, with handsome features and an eternally youthful sense of humor.

Gabrielle found herself studying his build, and a feeling began creeping over her that she hadn't experienced since the death of her husband. She was enthralled by the way the moonlight cast defining shadows on his muscular build, the way that his body curved as he sat at ease in the chair. How his eyes twinkled when he smiled.

Smiled?

Gabrielle blinked and then horror fell upon her as she realized that he was looking right at her, and grinning.

"Oh gods," Gabrielle sighed.

Felix waved cheerily. Trying to ignore the heat rising in her cheeks, Gabrielle returned the greeting. Then Felix returned to his work, only occasionally glancing in her direction.

"What are you doing?" A familiar voice startled her.

"What? Me? Nothing!" Gabrielle replied quickly, straightening up. She turned and found Xena strolling into the room.

The Warrior Princess paused, her eyes narrowing as she looked at her friend. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah," Gabrielle nodded. "Fine. Just fine. Just um, um, looking at the stars, you know?"

Xena frowned, her suspicions rising. She stepped out onto the balcony. She saw the color in Gabrielle's cheeks.

"You sure you're okay?" She asked. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand against Gabrielle's cheek. "You're all flushed. Do you have a fever or something?"

"No, no," Gabrielle laughed nervously. "I'm fine. It must be the altitude."

Now Xena knew something was up. The only time Gabrielle fidgeted like this was when she was in the process of doing something, or about to do something that Xena classified as reckless, or down right silly.

Her eyes scanned the surrounding buildings and immediately spied the young man seated at ease near the end of the avenue.

The realization settled in and a smile touched the corners of her mouth.

"Looking at the stars huh?" she asked, arching one eyebrow in Gabrielle's direction.

Gabrielle froze for a moment, and then the flush in her cheeks deepened. She shrugged.

"And the, um, the other sights," she offered.

Xena looked back down at the figure seated atop the house.

"The two of you have been spending a lot of time together, down in that library," Xena said.

Gabrielle shrugged. "What can I say? All the records and stories recorded down there are fascinating! I could spend a lifetime in that place, and never get bored."

"And he's the same way?" Xena asked, tilting her head in the direction of Felix.

Gabrielle nodded. A somewhat wistful smile appeared. "It's more than that, though. He treats everything like a treasure, something to be cherished and remembered. He loves knowledge, and finding out what happened, to whom, and where, and when. And he's polite and gentle, and strong."

Xena's eyebrows rose as she watched the transformation come over her friend. She began to smile.

"And I love the sound of his voice," she continued. Gabrielle suddenly realized that she was rambling. She paused and looked at Xena again. "Yeah, um, he's nice."

Xena's smile widened and Gabrielle realized that it was the first genuine smile she had seen since Xena had remembered everything.

"You seem pretty taken by him," Xena offered.

Gabrielle leaned back against the rail and looked down at Felix. He looked up from his musings, saw the second figure on the balcony, and waved in greeting.

Xena smiled and returned the gesture.

"Yeah," Gabrielle said dreamily. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Yeah, we know," Xena replied. "Well, I was going to ask you what you thought about trying to get home. But you seem to have other things on your mind at the moment."

Gabrielle forced herself to focus on her friend.

"I figured that we could just get a ride from Tyrion, once they get his ship fixed." She shrugged. "From what Felix and Tyrion were saying, there's a chance that they could get it going again."

"Great," Xena sighed. One of the memories that had been reawakened had to do with her first time flying aboard Tyrion's ship. It had been immediately apparent that flight was not something Xena relished.

"Wait a second," Gabrielle said suddenly. "What do you mean, 'we know'?"

"I mean Tyrion and I," Xena smiled. "I think you two might want to keep a low profile for the time being."

"Why?" Gabrielle asked. "We haven't, you know? I mean, we're just friends."

"Ah," Xena nodded. She looked back down at the house. Then she frowned. "What's going on in there?"

"That's what I was wondering," Gabrielle nodded. "I think I saw Silas, a few minutes ago, acting like a human forklift."

Xena frowned. "A what?"

Gabrielle smiled. "Sorry." She tapped her temple. "Leftovers from my last trip."

"How much do you exactly remember?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle's expression sobered. "Everything. Plus a bunch of stuff that Nicolla put in my head so I could pass as one of them, if it came to it."

"What kind of stuff?"

Gabrielle sighed. "A lot of technical stuff, mostly. How some of the computers work on the ship. How some of their gear works."

Gabrielle smiled wryly. "It's kind of strange, really. I remember learning how to do all those things, but at the same time, I know that they're actually Nicolla's memories and not really my own. She just kind of planted them in my head so I would know what to do on my own. It's really quite amazing how Nicolla can do that."

"Amazing isn't a word I'd have chosen," Xena replied. The momentary levity that Gabrielle had seen dwindled and Xena's demeanor once again became the protected thing that she had witnessed after her last meeting with the young telepath.

Gabrielle's smile softened to something more sympathetic. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Xena shrugged. "Not much to talk about."

Gabrielle sighed inwardly. Xena was always trying so hard to be the strong one. Even when she knew that her friend could tell she was hurting, Xena would always attempt to contain it.

Gabrielle wondered if there were times when Xena would simply withdraw and release all these pent up emotions.

"Xena," she said gently. "I know that those things were not something that you can just let go."

Xena shrugged.

Gabrielle was about to try and press the issue when they both saw Felix sit up and quickly reenter the house. At the same time, the shadows on the first floor continued moving back and forth across the windows.

"I want to find out what's going on," Xena said. "Come on."

The gear was stowed; all the portable stuff prepared to be put back in storage aboard the ship, the weapons crates and other equipment for the trip was staged in the front hall.

Tyrion sipped a mug of caf and did a quick check to make sure no items had been left accidentally left behind or misplaced.

Once the rest of his team entered the room, he set the mug down.

"Alright, people," He began. "First thing's first. Silas, Felix, what's the status on the ship?"

Silas shrugged his massive shoulders. "Structurally, she's sound. She just needs a lot of rewiring."

"All the backup software survived in hard copy form," Felix added. "If we can get the hardware systems restored, loading the operating system will be a walk in the park."

"That's where we're going to run into an issue," Tyrion said. "It means trying to get materials and components from these people, and they don't have the tech knowledge to help us."

"We could always show them a few things," Mavon offered. "Nothing major, just some simple…"

"No!" Tyrion said flatly. "We do this on our own, no matter how long it takes."

"Could take a while, Chief," Felix noted. "If we have to convert raw material to refined components, it could take a long while."

"I don't think it'll come to that," Silas said. "Most of the more complex stuff has replacements in the storage locker, so we won't have to manufacture any boards as far as I can tell. We might have to recycle a couple of the old ones, or manually patch and repair, but we all now how to do that."

"So it comes down to a choice," Tyrion continued. "Do we all go as a unit to this Rohan, or does one or two of us stay behind to work on the ship, with the assumption that they can then fly out and meet us once the repairs are completed?"

"Well," Mavon said raising his hand. "I, for one, have had a month in this place and I want to see some more of the neighborhood, so I'm not hanging about to fix a bunch of broken wires and circuits while the rest of you get to have all the fun."

"Be a shame to split the comedy troop, chief," Felix added. "Besides, we had thirty or so refugees on our boat when we arrived. You telling me none of them can repair the ship?"

"No," Tyrion replied. "They could. But they might also find the stuff that we don't want discovered. We can't leave it here because of the temptation it presents to these people, nor can we stash it safely in the ship, or take it all with us."

"We could always destroy it," Silas offered.

"What?" Nicolla turned back to look at the massive man. "Isn't that a bit extreme?"

"Considering where we are, I don't think so," Silas said. "If we need to unload a bunch of gear, then this is the best way to do it. It gets rid of anything that we wouldn't want an outside contractor, or one of the locals to find, and I can get replacement stuff for anything we lose, once we get back home."

"One other thing," Tyrion continued. He looked about the room at his team. "We've been here for nearly a month, and we're all getting comfortable with the surroundings. I know that being assigned to a place and then sitting on your duffs makes for long dull days, and we've all done things that will help us pass the time, but we need to keep it real. Maintain some detachment."

He finished speaking as his eyes fell on Felix.

"Felix," He continued. "I need to talk to you, in private."

Felix looked up at Tyrion and instantly knew what the conversation would be about. He sighed.

"Go ahead and say it, chief."

"Fine," Tyrion took a deep breath. "Whatever this thing is between you and Gabrielle, I want you to stop it, now, before it goes any further."

There was a knock on the door. Nicolla excused herself and went to answer it.

Felix seemed to think about Tyrion's statement for a moment.

"I mean it, Felix," Tyrion finished.

Felix nodded. "No."

Instantly, all eyes turned towards the young man.

"Excuse me?" Tyrion's voice dropped a notch.

"No, Chief," Felix replied. "Aside from the fact that nothing has happened between us. I won't shut it off now, just because we're about to deploy."

"You know the regs, Felix," Tyrion said.

"Yeah," Felix replied. "I remember. But that was back when we were enlisted. Every one of us has been out of the force for at least five years. Now, I could appreciate it if we were still Covert Ops, still bouncing from planet to planet on missions that we can never discuss, even amongst ourselves. But those rules don't apply any more."

Tyrion's gaze went dark. "This isn't a request."

Now it was Felix's turn to get a little terse. "Yes it is, chief. I'm not in the service any more. You can order me within the context of the operation of your ship, and only your ship, as under the Civilian Privateer Statutes. No Ethical Conduct rules have been violated. We all signed on with you because we were all hankering for something to do other than sit around in Silas's bar every day. We aren't a strike team anymore, we're a civilian Search and Rescue team and that's it. Just because we kept some of our other toys doesn't change that."

"What are you, a fucking lawyer?" Tyrion blurted. "I said end it, period."

"And I'm telling you that I will not do that, Chief!" Felix shot back.

"Easy, Doc," Silas growled, watching the two of them.

"You're not going to get into a relationship with…" Tyrion stopped suddenly.

"With who, Chief?" Felix shot to his feet.

"You were about to say, 'with my daughter', weren't you," Felix snapped. "But you keep forgetting, Chief. Gabrielle isn't Lynette! Lynette's dead!"

As soon as the words left his lips, he instantly regretted them. Everyone there knew how much Gabrielle resembled Tyrion's late daughter. It was that resemblance, physically and her personality, that had endeared her to all of them in a short period of time.

The entire room seemed to freeze as the two men stared at each other, rage and hurt blending painfully in both their eyes. The air was laced with tension so tangible that they all felt it.

"Doc," Silas growled menacingly. "You want to walk out of this room right now."

Felix looked back at Silas, sitting like a volcano waiting to blow. His eyes were dark, deadly pits. Even his partner, Mavon, was staring at him with disapproval.

Nicolla had a hand over her mouth, while Xena and Gabrielle just gaped at him, eyes wide with shock.

"You stupid fucking jack!" Felix thought in dismay as his eyes locked on hers. "She heard that!"

Tyrion's breath was coming in raspy heaves as his anger threatened to burst.

"Shit," Felix muttered. "Chief, I-"

"Get out," Tyrion rasped. "Get the fuck out of my face right now!"

Felix stepped back, looking from one to the other. He gave a nod, turned and stormed out the door into the night.

Tyrion stood like a monolith for a moment, and then he inhaled sharply, his eyes looking at the ceiling. He took a few more deep breaths, attempting to compose himself.

"Get the rest of the gear prepped," he finally ordered as he strode out of the room.

Silas, Mavon and Nicolla went to their assigned tasks without saying a word.

Xena looked down at Gabrielle and they both nodded.

Xena headed for the door, while Gabrielle moved to follow Tyrion.

"You might want to leave him be," Mavon suggested. Gabrielle gave him a frosty look and then vanished down the small hallway.

When Xena emerged onto the moonlit street, she didn't immediately see Felix. Then she spied him, storming down the avenue towards the next switchback.

"Felix!" She called out.

The young man paid no attention and vanished around the corner.

Xena considered for a moment, and then followed his path down the street.

Tyrion looked down at the street below, watching as Xena moved after Felix. He was seething with an anger that he hadn't felt in years, and never towards a comrade. The sting of those words still drilled into his chest.

"Hi there," A voice said behind him.

"I told you to get the rest of the gear prepped!" Tyrion barked.

"Yeah, you told them. But I'm a guest here, remember?"

Tyrion looked back and saw Gabrielle standing in the archway.

"Oh," Tyrion said. "Hi."

"Hi," Gabrielle echoed. "Busy night, huh?"

Tyrion turned around and looked at Gabrielle. "Go ahead. Say it," He challenged. "You think I was out of line too, don't you?"

Gabrielle considered for a moment and then nodded. "Okay. You were out of line, as you put it." She smiled.

Tyrion's eyebrows rose at her forward attitude. "Really?"

Gabrielle nodded. "I do understand, Tyrion. But you have to understand something as well."

"I know you're not my daughter," Tyrion waved a dismissive hand.

"That's not what I was going to say," Gabrielle said a bit sharply.

She took a deep breath and fixed him with a stare of equal ferocity.

"One thing I noticed during my last little adventure with you was how protective you were of me. I suppose I understood it then because I was the new kid in your world and all that. Even Silas got to be the same way, after I got upset with him."

Tyrion nodded, indicating that he was listening.

"A lot has happened since you dropped out of the sky on us," She went on. "I've been married, and then watched as my husband was killed right before my eyes." She held her thumb and forefinger close together. "I was this close to taking a life myself, out of revenge for what happened to my husband."

"You were married?" Tyrion blurted.

Gabrielle nodded.

"Damn," Tyrion smiled.

"I'm not a kid, really," Gabrielle stammered. "Yet Xena, and now you, seem to think I am."

"That isn't the reason," Tyrion interjected. "We're heading out in seven days, and the last thing I want is for you to be worrying about your boyfriend while we're gone."

"I'm going to worry about all of you, whether I'm there or not," Gabrielle replied. "You can't change that."

"That's not the point," Tyrion started.

"Besides," Gabrielle added quickly. "You're going to need all the friends you can get when Xena learns that you're all heading out in a week."

"You haven't told her?" Tyrion asked.

Gabrielle shook her head. "Oh no, not yet. I think you should be the one to break that part to her."

"Why me?" Tyrion asked.

"You have a better chance at surviving it," Gabrielle admitted with a wry smile. "I know Xena, and she isn't going to like being left behind."

"She isn't ready for this yet," Tyrion replied. "She's still dealing with the recall that Nicolla gave her the other day."

"I didn't say that I didn't understand," Gabrielle replied. "I'm just saying that she won't."

She turned and began moving back into the house.

"And where Felix is concerned," Gabrielle continued. Her voice dropped to something more direct. "I think that should be between him and me."

Tyrion smiled.

"I like him, Tyrion," Gabrielle said simply. "And I like spending time with him. Yes, he was wrong to say what he said, but he was right in the sense that I think –"

"Low tech," Tyrion said simply, cutting her off.

"What?" Gabrielle frowned.

"I was going to say, 'Low Tech'," Tyrion said. "I know that my daughter is dead, Gabrielle. I may be old and one step away from being permanently shell shocked, but I still have a good grasp of reality. And the reality of the situation is this: You live on a Low Technology World, a protected world. There is no way that it would be permitted to happen, if you two decided, well, to get together." He shrugged. "It wouldn't work because you could never see each other, period. I know you like him, and I know he likes you, but it isn't possible, Gabrielle. And in spite of his brains, Doc's running off at the mouth back there proves that he isn't thinking straight."

Gabrielle stared at Tyrion for a moment, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable.

Tyrion smiled at her sudden discomfiture.

"Look," he said. "I know that you two kids are going to do whatever you're going to do, in spite of anything that me, or Xena says. I accept that. Besides, you kids are old enough to make your own decisions. I just hope you both understand that, when and if we get off this rock, you two will have to split up. It's that simple. My only actions were to avoid trouble for everyone involved in this mess."

Xena was puffing heavily by the time she reached the main gate of the city. In spite of her determination to get back into shape as the final part of recovering from being immobile for nearly a month, she understood just how much further she had to go before she would be back to her old self. Mentally, she made a note to join Tyrion for more of his ritual jogging sessions in the mornings.

She stopped at the gate and looked out across the field where she could see the shadowy shape of Felix moving off towards the city of Osgiliath and the place where the Phoenix Fire lay. It didn't take a genius to know where the frustrated man was heading.

She sat down on a nearby bench and watched to make sure Felix didn't change direction.

"Are you well, My Lady?" A hauntingly gruff voice asked. The voice was that of the man who had tortured her. Deep, hoarse, filled with malice. Alsydius.

Xena stood and turned quickly, her heart hammering in her throat. Beside the bench stood one of the soldiers who stood watch over the main gate. He was dressed in silver armor and helm that shone like water in the moonlight.

As quickly as she could, she forced the rushing memories back down and tried to do the same thing with her heart.

"My Lady?" The soldier asked. She could see legitimate concern i9n his shining eyes.

"Fine," Xena said quickly. "You startled me." She tried to swallow some of the dryness out of her mouth. "I'm fine."

"We are preparing to close the gate for the night, My Lady," The soldier said dutifully. "If you wish to depart, you should do so now."

Xena considered for a moment. Should she walk across the field now, tired, in the dark, or wait till morning? The latter option meant another trek up to their lodging on the sixth level. Her eyes drifted upward and she groaned inwardly.

"Thank you," she said. "I think I'll head out."

"As you wish," The soldier replied.

Swallowing the remainder of her fright, she walked through the massive arched gateway and out into the Pelannor Fields.

For what seemed like hours, she moved across the relatively level plain. Here and there she spied depressions in the smooth field, scars left over from the last war that Aragorn had described.

As she continued through the darkness, her imagination began to conjure shapes and mysterious shadows moving in the night around her. Soft animal noises took on a darker, more chilling tone in her ears.

She found he gaze shifting from side to side, following perceived threats that seemed to loom up just beyond the reach of her gaze.

"Get a hold of yourself," she growled. "What's the matter with you? It's not like this is the first time you've traveled at night for Zeus's sake!"

Off in the distance, a brilliant pale point of light shone out and then faded. Xena guessed it was from the hatch of the ship, since she was heading in that direction. She felt her heart sink back into unease as the light faded and was finally extinguished.

The dark, hazy images of memories began to overlap the real world, and she saw the remains of walls, smelled the smoke of battle.

The night sounds of the insects and animals became cries of the dying in her ears and the shadows took on the shapes of warriors, clad in dark armor, storming the broken walls.

The shadow realm surrounding her became the place of her suppressed nightmares. Cyerna rose from the darkness flooding her mind with all its horror.

"Stop this!" her mind screamed. She turned, and for the first time in her entire life, she fled. There was no retreat, no plan of movement. Her mind shut completely down and she ran until her legs gave out beneath her. With every step she could see Alsydius's scarred face following her. The footfalls sounded like the crack of the whip, the whip that had rent her flesh from her body in hours of endless torment.

The soft damp grass met her as she sprawled to the ground. The cool moist scent of the earth drove the images away, and slowly she fought the nightmare down. She fought the urge to break down and brought her breathing back under control.

"Look at yourself!" She thought in sudden anger. "What's the matter with you?"

She rose back to her feet and looked at her surroundings with a touch of trepidation. The phantoms were gone and all she beheld was the endless silver rolling plains of Gondor, glowing in the moonlight.

A noise brought her attention back to the dark hulk of the Phoenix Fire, sitting on the plain ahead of her. It was a deep, throbbing sound, the likes of which she had never heard before.

She frowned as she felt the ground beneath her boots tickling her feet. The noise seemed to rise from the earth, reaching all the way through her to the top of her head.

Xena began moving towards the ship, feeling the pulses move through her, strengthening as she approached. Was this what Gabrielle had meant when she said she remembered the sound of those drums?

She frowned. Beneath the rhythmic booming of the percussion, she could hear other sounds, though she couldn't call it music, she assumed that was what it was.

As she came closer to the ship, the sounds leeching through the skin of the vessel became more defined. They were loud, gritty and harsh. If she had to put a sense to those sounds, she would have said that the music sounded angry, as opposed to festive.

Then again, that would have fit Felix's frame of mind after his confrontation.

The hatch was open a sliver, and brilliant pale light leaked out in a narrow slash on the dark ground.

Xena pushed the hatch open and was immediately bombarded by the cacophony of sound blaring from within the ship.

_I walk through fire, I feel no pain._

_Fields of war, which fuel my veins._

_In the end, son, I was once like you._

_Cut me child, you'll see I bleed,_

_Scars are black, which help me see._

_In the end, son, I was once like you._

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round soon!_

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round, comin round soon!_

She squeezed her eyes slightly and put her hands over her ears to block out the deafening music. Ahead of her, she could see Felix, his head bobbing up and down in rhythm to the 'music' as he bent over the small central work table.

"Felix!" she shouted, but her voice was lost in the din. She tried several more times to shout his name, but she couldn't even hear her own voice, let alone anything else.

She looked from side to side for inspiration, and found it in the small smooth control screen to the right of the open hatch.

Fortunately, the bilingual markings that Tyrion had incorporated into his ship several years back were still visible.

In the center of the small screen was a list of titles, and beneath them, two small rectangular glowing images. One said PLAY, and the other, thankfully, read as STOP.

She reached out and touched her finger to the small red icon. Instantly the deafening barrage of sound vanished.

"God dammit all to hell!" Felix exclaimed, turning back to the control panel. He stopped short when he saw Xena standing there.

"Oh," he offered neutrally. "I thought I had blown the audio feed again."

He reached past her and hit the icon marked PLAY. Instantly, the deafening noise returned.

_Wheels of death, the rotting womb._

_Hatred takes all the blessed doom!_

_In the end, son, I was once like you!_

_The ashes that fly, the skin which burns._

_Kill all you can, refuse to learn._

_In the end, son, I was once like you!_

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round soon!_

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round, comin round soon!_

Xena clapped her hands back over her ears. The act had been a snub and she knew it.

Reaching up, she ceased the music a second time.

"I think you and I need to talk, Felix," she said.

Felix took a deep breath and then turned back to face her.

"Not right now," he said coldly. "Make an appointment. Excuse me." He reached past her and the cacophony resumed.

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round soon!_

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round, comin round soon!_

Once is a snub. Twice, now that was a slap in the face.

She jabbed the cut off again.

"It wasn't a request, Felix," Xena said evenly.

"What is it with people and orders lately?" Felix asked the air before him. He spun back around to face her and their eyes locked.

One of the more disconcerting aspects of Tyrion's people was that they were rarely intimidated, even by her.

Felix met Xena's measuring gaze with a dark one of his own. For the longest moment, no words were said.

"Fine," Felix's voice was laced with self recriminating sarcasm. "I got in the chief's face and I shouldn't have. You want to pass on my apology, go ahead. Now if you'll excuse me, I got shit to do!"

He jabbed the screen a third time.

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is comin round soon!_

Three snubs in a row? That was enough!

_Life, Birth, Blood, Doom,_

_The hole in the ground is com….._

Xena's elbow jabbed up and back into the screen, both depressing the STOP switch as well as caving the screen in with a shower of popping sparks.

Felix's eyes went wide with surprise and then outrage.

"God Dammit!" He bellowed. "You know how long it took for me to fix that fucking thing?"

"I said," Xena bellowed back. "We need to have a talk!"

Muttering to himself, Felix went around the table to a small storage locker and began fishing through the various components.

"She's really special to you, isn't she," Xena said more softly.

"I'm a little talked out right now, if you don't mind," Felix shot back. "And I got _another_ repair job now, thanks to you!"

It was instantly apparent to Xena that Felix's hostility wasn't really directed at her person. It was the result of inward frustration, or perhaps disgust.

"I just don't want to see Gabrielle get hurt, Felix," Xena offered.

The young man set his tools on the table and sighed.

"Okay, fine!" he replied. "You want to talk, then we'll talk."

He turned and faced her, his dark eyes boring into hers.

"You tell me how well you're really coping with all the shit Nicky downloaded back into your brain, and I'll tell you what's knocking around in my head, fair enough?" He folded his arms across his chest and looked at her expectantly. "Ladies first."

Xena's mouth opened and closed in surprise. "This isn't about me, Felix."

"Bull shit!" Felix shot back. "I saw you when you walked in here! Never mind the mud and grass on your knees and hands, your pulse was racing, pupils were dilated and you were sweating! Now, either you're a stim junkie, or you had a flashback in the last five minutes!"

Xena looked down at her hands and legs and saw the remnants of her spill in the field. Granted, that wasn't too difficult to deduce that she had fallen, but the other things? She looked back at him and saw him smile and point his index finger to his right temple, indicating his eyes.

"I'm a combat medic, remember?" Felix said evenly. "I'm also a fucking genius, okay? My brains kept me in the service even when my blindness almost got me kicked out!"

"Blind?" Xena was completely taken by surprise. "You mean you're,"

"As a Varnitian Nightflyer," Felix finished for her. "Or at least, I was till the boys at Research got hold of me."

"Caught the pulse wave of an energy mine a few years back. Fried my real eyes like eggs." He tapped his temple. "Cybernetic implants, with advanced visuals. In layman's terms, my vision is about 20/1000 in both eyes, with augmented night vision and diagnostic abilities." He shrugged. "They also added a few other things when I began training as a med tech. Basic internal diagnostics and a few other little bonuses."

Xena shook her head, not understanding.

Felix sighed.

"I can see the fluxuation in your pupils, indicating the crash after a moderate adrenaline surge. I could see the sweat beading on your face, even though you couldn't feel it, and I saw your pulse," he pointed at Xena's throat. "The artery was bouncing like some of the eye candy at Silas's bar, so either you just ran from the main gate to here, or you had an attack. Now, shall we dispense with the bull?"

When she said nothing for a long moment, Felix nodded.

"That's what I thought," he turned back to his work. "If you ain't willing to talk, you don't have the right to bitch!"

"You think you're so slick," Xena said in a hiss. "Always have a quick way out of anything you don't want to deal with! This isn't about me and how I'm dealing with the nightmares Nicolla woke up in my head! It's about my best friend, and the man she's falling in love with!"

Felix fumbled the micro welder and looked up at her.

"Well," Xena said, crossing her arms and fixing him with an icy gaze. "That got your attention."

"What happens, if anything, between me and Gabrielle, is between me and Gabrielle," Felix countered. "And no one else, got it?"

"See," Xena held up a finger. "That's where you're wrong, genius. Anything that happens to Gabrielle does affect me, even if I'm not directly involved. And if there's a chance that she could get hurt with this whole, whatever it is between you, then I need to be satisfied!"

"What are you?" Felix asked. "Her god damned mother?"

"If you like," Xena countered. Then her stern expression softened and she smiled a little. "I like you Felix. I think you're a good person. A little hot under the collar sometimes, but we all have tempers. I don't believe you'd deliberately hurt anyone, but you don't know Gabrielle like I do."

"Hold it right there," Felix interjected. "You think Gabrielle and I have been working in those archives these last couple of weeks and not talked? I know a lot more than you think I do."

"Oh?" Xena folded her arms and arched an eyebrow.

Felix sighed, and some of the hostility flowed from him with that breath.

"Look," he said more calmly. "I know that her traveling with you is the first priority. That's what she really wants, and I doubt that anyone or anything will change that. I know about Perdicus's death. The who, the how, and the aftermath of the whole fucked up affair. And I know that she loves the life she has with you." He smiled for the first time in the entire conversation. "I would never try and threaten that, or take her away from that, okay. I want that out in the open."

"But?" Xena added.

Felix shrugged. "Look. We all knew Lynette, and I guess you could say that the Chief and even Silas are still dealing with her death. I don't think even Gabrielle realizes how much she's like Lynette. Not just in looks, mind you. She's got the same personality, the same sense of humor, and the same sense of honor, if you will. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was a fucking clone."

"Clone?" Xena asked.

"Never mind," Felix waved it away. "I should have said twin. The point is, sometimes I think the line gets blurred a little with the Chief, and he forgets that Gabrielle is not his daughter."

"Where you don't have that problem," Xena replied.

"No, I don't," Felix said flatly. "I never would have even considered the possibility of, well, an amorous relationship with Lynette." He shrugged and made a face. "Would have been like kissing my sister for crying out loud."

He picked up the tools and began working on a small panel.

Xena looked at him for a long moment, and then she stepped over, yanked the tools out of his hand, tossing them on the floor. Her hands slapped down on the table and her eyes bored into his with icy ferocity.

"Quit dancing, Felix," she growled. "Despite the big words, you're not very good at it."

"Fine," Felix's eyes met hers again and they darkened. "I like your friend, Xena. I like her a lot, and if the opportunity came about for me to take her away from that primitive cesspool you call home, I'd do it in a fucking heartbeat! And I wouldn't let the Chiefs deluded attitude or your over protective ass stop me, if it was what she wanted! If she wanted to stay on the shit hole of a world of yours, then I'd relocate! Straight enough for you?"

The two held each others gaze, unflinchingly for a long moment.

Xena stared deep into his eyes, searching the soul of the man before her. He was angry, determined, and hurting at the same time, but she sensed no duplicity of any kind.

Finally, a smile began to tug at the corners of her mouth.

"That's all I wanted to know," she smiled.

A huge weight lifted from Felix's shoulders and he seemed to wilt suddenly, dropping his head onto his hands.

"You are a real bitch, you know that?" he said.

"I've been told," Xena replied, remembering an encounter she had kept secret for a couple of years. "I think the exact words were 'maladjusted, mistrustful bitch'."

Felix looked up and smiled. "Who had the balls to say that to your face?"

Xena grinned. "Just someone I ran into outside of Athens one evening."

"So," Xena continued before more questions of that particular encounter surfaced. "How do we handle Tyrion and Silas?"

Felix groaned as some of the weight settled back down on his shoulders.

"I need to let them cool out, and then get ready to get my ass chewed beyond recognition," Felix admitted. "I just lost my top and ," He rolled a hand forward and winced.

"I don't know which part is the worst," he went on. "The fact that I got in his face, or what I said, or the fact that you and Gabrielle heard it."

"Probably all three," Xena replied. "But we also saw you try and take it back, right after you said it, so we all know that you didn't mean it."

Felix shrugged.

"Well," He said. "At least I can fix up the portable rechargers for our ammo mags. The originals were toasted in the crash, and we're gonna need them when we head out."

"Head out?" Xena asked. "Head out where?"

"King Aragorn asked us to help his men recon the land west of here, Rohan, I think it's called. Something about messengers not being able to get through until the guy that brought you and Gabrielle made it." Felix explained. "We're loading up for a long duration deployment with these guys, since they move at the about the same pace as a Talusian Vermite."

"Which would be slow, right?" Xena replied. Her eyes narrowed. "When are you leaving?"

"Seven days," Felix looked up at Xena. "Gabrielle didn't tell you?"

Xena shook her head.

"We came over tonight because we saw all of you making preparations." Xena said. "We were wondering what was happening."

"Wondering?" Felix looked confused. "Gabrielle was sitting right there when the plans were discussed."

"The king asked for your help?" Xena asked.

"Well, the Chief more or less volunteered," Felix replied. He could see the change in Xena as he spoke.

"He volunteered all of us?" She pressed.

"Well, not exactly," Felix replied, feeling a little uneasy. "You know, I'm surprised Gabrielle didn't mention this to you."

"Well, she didn't, so why don't you come out with it." Xena demanded.

Felix sighed. "Okay. Tyrion and Gabrielle both agreed that you still have a lot to work through, with what all you've remembered lately. So it was decided that the two of you would wait here while the rest of us head out."

"Really?" Xena hissed. "And by Tyrion and Gabrielle, you meant Tyrion, right?"

"No," Felix replied. "By Tyrion and Gabrielle, I meant Tyrion made the final determination based on the information presented."

"By whom?" Xena's eyes narrowed.

Felix set down the tools and stood up, facing the Warrior Princess.

"As the resident medical officer in our little group," Felix said simply. "I made the determination based on what you've been through up to this point, and my professional opinion is that you are not physically or psychologically recovered enough to be effective on this mission."

"Excuse me?" Xena hissed.

"In a nut shell," Felix continued. "Your body hasn't recovered from the nano malfunction enough for you to handle the trip, and you're still fucked in the head from what you dealt with at Cyerna."

"And your opinion is the only one that counts, is it?" Xena countered, feeling a sense of outrage.

"Mine and Nicky's", Felix nodded. "And Gabrielle's too. Silas had a few ideas, but in the end, we came to a consensus."

"Gabrielle!" Xena blurted, suddenly feeling a sense of betrayal that she could never have imagined. "She agreed to this?"

"All members of Old Number Seven have a say in this, Xena." Felix replied. "And Gabrielle is a member, by virtue of the last mission we ran on your world."

"What?"

"Gabrielle was an integral part of the spotter detachment that covered our escape from the keep." Felix said.

"She wouldn't have said anything to keep me from this!" Xena protested.

"Here's the bottom line," Felix continued. "After every mission, all members of the team would receive a debriefing. They would go over the operation, what worked, what didn't. In situations where a member was captured or killed, a mandatory psych evaluation was also required. That was usually followed by a minimum thirty day leave of duty to allow complete recovery. You never had that. That alone makes you ineligible."

"What?" Xena blurted again, now completely offended. "Cyerna happened almost two years ago!"

"But you only remembered it last week," Felix countered. "And the injuries you sustained in the attack here, plus the nano issue put you out of commission for almost a month."

"You think you can hold me back over something that happened to me almost two years ago?" Xena hissed. "We'll see about that!"

"Now who's going off the deep end?" Felix asked. His gaze and tone became something that blended firmness and professionalism in equal measure.

"I'm fine!" Xena protested.

"You're fucked!" Felix countered. "I saw you after you stumbled in here, remember? And I saw what they did to you at Cyerna, so don't go all high and mighty on me!"

He leaned on the workbench and fixed his gaze on her.

"They had you strung up like a side of meat," he said in a slow, even, menacing voice. "They had been breaking bones and ripping the flesh off your body, one lash at a time, non stop, for at least a day."

With each word, he watched Xena's reaction closely. Her steely gaze dimmed a bit, and he could see the fear buried beneath the anger. "First the hands, so you couldn't manipulate the manacles, then the legs so you wouldn't be able to run, if you managed to get out. Then they started having fun with a cat-o-nine tails or whatever they use on your world."

"Stop it!" Xena said, backing a pace away from the table.

"Whoever was swinging the whip, probably didn't want anything from you, physically," Felix went on relentlessly. "He was in it for the fun. Maybe for a little dose of revenge? He had been one of your lieutenants, after all. How nasty were you to him?"

"Stop," Xena ordered. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Felix watched her pulse and pupil dilation. He knew he was pressing buttons. Then a sudden understanding set in. Xena was proud, strong, honorable. She would never have shown discomfort or pain, regardless of the circumstances. This little event was proof of that.

"That was what he wanted, wasn't it?" He asked aloud, and something like a twisted smile tugged at his lips. "He didn't want to kill you. Not without breaking you first."

"He didn't break me!" Xena shouted.

"What did he want, Xena?" Felix pressed. He knew there would be an explosion of emotion any moment. He was ready to duck and weave out of her path when it happened.

"An easy piece of ass?" He continued. "No, not that. Conversion to his little world? Not with your previous history. You might take over." He raised a single finger. "Ahhhh…you were an example to his men, weren't you. He only wanted to show that he could break anyone. By breaking you, he accomplished that. He needed you broken, quickly."

"He never broke me!" Xena shouted at him.

"He needed you to scream, didn't he, Xena?" Felix finished, nodding. "He wanted you screaming."

"_Come on, Xena,"_ Alsydius's voice echoed from her memory. _"You know how I love to hear you scream." _

Something inside her snapped, and she flew at him with a cry of rage.

Fortunately, Felix had been watching the building signs, and was not taken unawares. He sidestepped to the left and grasped a length of silver piping as he backed out the hatch with the furious Xena in pursuit.

"He ripped you to shreds until you screamed, and then he left you to hang, like a slaughter animal!" Felix taunted. "That's what happened, isn't it!"

Xena charged, bowling the young man over. The two of them went down in a tangle of limbs before they separated.

Felix turned back and caught Xena's boot in the side of his head. He flipped over and struck the ground hard with a grunt. Almost as quickly as he hit, he was back on his feet, moving with amazing agility as he fended off the furious woman.

They closed again, fists flying. This time, Felix bobbed, weaved, and spun low. His leg sweep was successful, and Xena fell back with a cry.

Xena kipped to her feet, sword ringing free, while Felix spun his legs and flipped back upright. The piping came up in a rolling block and there was a sharp clang as Xena's weapon shot sparks with the contact.

Felix had to fight for real now, and he spun low, trying to sweep the warrior princess's legs out from under her a second time. Xena jumped back and then charged again.

When the weapons clashed a second time, his face was inches from hers.

"Look at what it did to you!" He shouted. "Look at what it's still doing!"

Then in a sudden violent shove, he actually sent Xena sprawling to the ground.

"Plus you're not back up to a hundred percent physically, either," he finished with a huff. "I shouldn't have been able to do that!"

The anger was still the dominant expression, but Felix could see Xena fighting the remembered agony of her torture. Her eyes were threatening to spill over, and her lip trembled.

He let the steel pipe fall to the ground and crouched down, folding his hands together.

"He made you scream, didn't he," Felix said softly, in a voice now filled with gentle compassion and understanding. "He broke through that stone wall you have a round your soul, and he hurt you. He hurt you bad."

Xena's watering eyes fixed on him. There was a hint of desperation in her gaze now. The anger had faded away.

"We all saw the result, Xena," Felix continued. "When we busted in there and got you out. Believe me, there isn't a one of us that wouldn't understand. But you have to deal with it before we can have you with us. You have to understand that."

To her credit, she gained control of herself quickly. She took several deep breaths.

"I'm going with you, and that's final," Xena finished with a wave of her hand. "You might find something that gets us all home, and I won't have Gabrielle and I left behind!"

Xena looked around for her sword. Suddenly, the hilt appeared before her, held in Felix's hands. She took the weapon and then accepted his hand up.

"You want to go?" Felix challenged her. "I see two ways to do it. One: Beat Silas at arm wrestling, or two: Talk with Nicky."

"With Nicky," Xena smiled grimly. "What? You don't count?"

"Nicky's the real expert," Felix replied. "And she'll be better able to relate. After all, she lived it with you, when you remembered."

"She what?" Xena's jaw dropped.

"You didn't know?" Felix asked her.

"How did she live it with me?" Xena asked.

"That's how it works, Xena," Felix replied. "Recall can only be done when the Teller and the subject pull the memories up together. That means she remembers it the same way you did, she experiences it."

"Gods," Xena's gaze fell to the ground. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"Why do you think so many high level Tellers burn out?" Felix asked. Then he closed his eyes and smiled as the realization settled in. "That's right. You wouldn't have known."

Nicolla sat in the main room of the house, absently twirling a writing implement between her fingers as she stared at the screen on her data pad. She reread her latest journal entry, considering if there was any additional pertinent information that needed to be added.

While it was no longer required for her to maintain a record of her telepathic contacts, Nicolla found it very helpful in maintaining the barrier between her life and the life experiences that she invariably gained when working with others. It was easy for some people with her gifts to begin to blur the line between what was real and what was acquired in sessions, which inevitably would lead to madness. As if the casual thoughts of passers by weren't enough hassle, the deliberate involvement of another mind was sometimes traumatic, especially her most recent endeavor.

Nicolla was in awe of the dark haired warrior, after experiencing what Xena had endured. She tapped her lower lip with the writing implement and then touched it to the screen.

"_Even after all that she has been through, both before and after the realization of the horror she was subjected to during the Cyerna Operation, Xena still maintains a brave front and actually manages to seem quite positive. I have to admit that I've been somewhat amazed by her resilience. At the same time, on those rare, unguarded occasions when I've been able to sense her state of mind, I can feel this constant struggle._

_Only time will tell if she resolves the issue or bears the trauma for the rest of her days. Yes, we could repair the physical damage, but the reawakening of those events was a lot for her to handle, and I don't doubt that somewhere dark and quiet, where she could be alone, she's broken down a couple times. I know I have."_

The door opened, and in walked Felix, with several items tucked under his arms.

"Hi," He said quietly. "Where's the chief?"

"In his bunk," Nicolla replied curtly, pointing at the ceiling. "What are those?"

"Portable ambient rechargers," Felix replied, setting the five objects on the table. "We'll need to charge the mags, and the unit we had in storage got mangled, so I cobbled these together."

Nicolla was still a little upset with Felix's confrontation earlier. She managed to let some of that go when she saw his peace offering and also felt the genuine remorse for the incident emanating from him.

"Has he been sacked out long?" Felix asked.

Nicolla shook her head. "He went up about an hour ago, after Gabs left. Chances are that he's still a wake."

Felix nodded his thanks and vanished down the hall.

Nicolla watched him depart and smiled, and then she turned back to her data pad.

"_Then again_," she wrote. _"The good part about this job is that there's never any shortage of drama….or comedy."_

She suddenly felt the presence of another person. Turning, she found Xena standing in the entrance.

"Hi," Xena said quietly.

"Hey, Xena," Nicolla smiled. "What's up?"

"Are you busy?" Xena offered. "I can come back another time."

"Not if you had a choice," Nicolla thought. She smiled and closed down her data pad. The pale blue screen faded to blackness. "No, I was just making some notes."

She slipped the writing implement into its slot on the top of the pad and then leaned back, looking at Xena with an expression of patient expectance.

Xena took a few steps into the room, and Nicolla perceived an uncharacteristic sense of nervousness. It had an almost child like quality which seemed completely alien considering the warrior before her.

"Look," Xena said. "I've never been really good at this, alright?"

"Good at what?" Nicolla asked.

"At, well, talking about things," Xena replied. "Except with Gabrielle, and there are still things that she'll never know either."

"Things?" Nicolla asked. "Recent things? Or things in general?"

Xena smiled nervously. "Perhaps a little of both. But after what happened with Felix a little while ago, I just,"

"What happened with Felix?" Nicolla asked. "Besides his dining on his leg earlier?"

"Long story," Xena replied. "But according to him, it's either talk to you, or arm wrestle Silas, and I know I can't do that yet."

Nicolla shrugged and gestured to the seat adjacent to hers. "Pull up a chair."

Xena sat down across from the small woman as Nicolla leaned back and refilled her mug of caf. "Want some?"

"No, thanks," Xena replied.

"Okay," Nicolla turned back to her and smiled. "So, what's on your mind?"

40


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors Note:**** A word of warning! This chapter deals with the creation of the Uruk Hai, the foot soldiers of Saruman. As such, the content is somewhat graphic. For those who may find this material offensive, I apologize, however, since they deal with how the Uruk Hai were initially created, based on aspects of summations of previous authors in the Tolkien universe. I felt that they were integral to the continuation of the plot.**

**I have written those portions in italics so that the reader may skip past them if desired.**

**Chapter 4**

"The art of politics is akin to the setting of the game. Each places his pieces in positions of highest advantage in order to best gain their objectives…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

Gowardred leaned back in the dark obsidian throne in the heart of Isengard, a cool, satisfied smile on his lips. He was a lean man, tall and proud, with long dark hair and deep, dark eyes. The armor of his homeland, Rohan, seemed somewhat beneath his newly established station.

In the three months since his councilor, Belial, had arrived, all had fallen into place. His ambition to rule Rohan was close to fulfillment. Only one final obstacle remained. The city of Edoras and King Eomer.

Belial had arrived mysteriously, accompanied by another man. One of the few remaining Wild Men, known as the Dunlendings.

"Greetings, Great Lord," Belial's soft voice had mewed. "I come with tidings and offerings from my Mistress. Too long have you sat upon a throne, behind those who would claim their superiority, wasting your talents in a worthless errand to maintain the forgotten walls of this place. My Lady bade me tell you that she has in mind a plan to remedy this situation, to your benefit, if you should be willing?"

Belial was a small man, shrouded in a dark cloak, with a reptilian voice that flowed like honey, though it had the feel of venom. Truly an agent of darkness if ever there had been one.

No matter. Gowardred had dealt with the likes of such men in the past, utilizing them to his benefit before casting them aside. Belial would be no different in the grand scheme of things, and his efforts, along with the efforts of his mysterious Lady would only seek to increase his own personal power.

"Who is this lady that you serve?" He asked the small man.

Belials icy pale gaze did not waver. He merely smiled showing pointed teeth.

"None, save her most trusted lieutenants, have right to know her true name, Great Lord," he replied. "To learn that, you must seek surety through actions and honor through great deed, bold and treacherous. This you have already done, to some small degree, arousing my Lady's interest. Now she sends me thither, with an offer of aid, and a plan to grant that which your heart desires."

"And what does this Lady desire?" Gowardred asked, leaning forward and glaring down at the man.

"My Lady begs your favor," Belial said.

"As a token," he reached into an oversized bag that he bore on his shoulder. "My Lady offers gifts, befitting a man of prominence, such as yourself."

He drew from the bag, a large, smooth crystal orb. It was made of smooth, dark, polished crystal, about the size of a man's head.

Belial held the crystal orb towards Gowardred, like an offering. "This is the Palantir of Amon-Sul," he said with an air of awe. "One of the treasures of the Elder Days, thought lost in the wars of Gondolin. My Lady offers it to you, in anticipation of your friendship."

"And should I refuse the friendship of your lady?" Gowardred said in an even tone, masking his sudden flaming desire to possess the stone.

"This is a gift," Belial replied easily. "A token of trust and friendship only. There is no compulsion for you to act in any way other than your own devices dictate."

Gowardred considered that for a moment, his steely eyes holding the strange messenger. To his surprise, Belial met his gaze with an expectant one of his own.

"And who is this that accompanies you?" He gestured to the man standing several paces back.

That man was tall and lean, with long, unkempt hair and fierce, wild dark eyes. He was clad in a combination of worked and unworked dirty leather skins, trimmed in ragged fur. At his waist was a simple belt, holding a dirty leather sack and a long dagger. He large hands were clasped in that belt, and he stood and glowered at Gowardred.

"It has been twenty years since the Dunlendings assailed the Westfold, under the deception of Saruman, the Traitor," Belial said, setting the Palantir on a large stone pedestal in the center of the chamber. "I bring before you, one of their chieftains."

Belial gestured to the feral man, and a smile slid across his face.

"I present to you, Volf," he said. "Son of Wulff, the leader of the Dunlendings who served under Saruman."

Gowardred nodded to the man. "I welcome you."

Volf merely maintained his gaze on Gowardred, as if he were sizing the Rohirrim lord for a meal.

"Master Volf seeks permission to allow some of his people to dwell in the more temperate sections of this valley," Belial said easily. "The harsh environment of the high hills has brought hardship to his people. In exchange for this consideration, he offers his finest warriors to serve under your command and aid in the defense of Isengard. Your garrison is quite small, and you would be hard pressed to defend it against attack, should one come."

"An attack that would come, should I refuse to grant this man and his people the land they request," Gowardred replied. "Whether you are the architect of this, or not, Master Belial, it is what would happen should I refuse, is it not?"

"I cannot say, one way or the other," Belial began, but Gowardred cut him off with a wave of his hand, fixing his gaze, instead, upon the chief of the Dunlendings.

"Is that not true, Master Volf?" Gowardred asked again.

The Wild Man stood his ground, gazing back at Gowardred with growing ferocity. His arms began to tremble as if a pent up rage were beginning to break free.

Gowardred smiled and leaned back in his throne. "I see by your manner that it is so. You would take by force that which is not given in parlay."

"We are all neighbors here, My Lords," Belial interjected, hoping to stave off a confrontation.

"Indeed?" Gowardred replied, fixing his gaze once again on the messenger. "And just how is that so? Where does your Lady dwell?"

Belial's genial nature took on a forced expression. "My Lady dwells far to the north, however, she had recently laid claim to the lands of southern entwood, and there, have I been installed to govern that region in her name."

"I know the lands you speak of, though you do not name them," Gowardred said sharply. "The lands are those of the southern region of the Entwood, and the seat of power that you have been granted can only be the tower of Dol-Guldor."

"That is its name, Lord," Belial replied slowly. "And though once a name of ill omen, I hope to change that perception with deeds and alliances of those who would be great, such as yourself and the Chieftain of the Dunlendings. Together, there is much that we could accomplish and end the trials that still plague these forsaken lands."

"Under the direction of your lady," Gowardred finished.

"Indeed," Belial replied honestly. "I am, and ever shall be her faithful servant. But I know her mind well, and know that she seeks only friendship with the Chief of the Hill Men and the Lord of Orthanc."

Gowardred stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I shall consider what you have offered, and call you to me on the morrow. In the mean time, take your ease in Orthanc." He gestured to one of the guards at the main entrance. "Show our guests to quarters, and then leave me alone to consider these offers.

Once the room was emptied, Gowardred considered all that he had heard for a moment. Then his eyes fixed on a small, shadowy alcove.

"Well?" He asked. "What do you think, Gamling?"

From his place of concealment, an old man emerged, clad in long flowing robes. His hair may have been red at one point, but now shimmered like snow in the dark chamber. His pale blue eyes were keen and bright, and his face was lined with wisdom and years.

Gamling, Champion of Théoden, uncle to their present ruler, Eomer. It had been many years since he had held a blade in his hands, yet his past was a part of the legends that had been woven within the workings of the War of the Ring.

He was a shrewd man and plain spoken. He saw much and held nothing back in the telling, which was why Gowardred both liked and despised him. Just as the old man would be forthcoming with his opinions about this recent visitation, so to, would his report to Eomer be equally verbose.

Glamdring moved across the polished floor with long purposeful strides that belied his advanced age.

"Were it not the fact that this man was accompanied by our old enemy," he offered, staring at the closed door where the guests had recently exited. "I might be swayed by his words. However, hearing that this Lady he serves has taken over the management of Dol-Guldor, and that they have obviously allied themselves with the Dunlendings, I would say that they could not be trusted."

"Of course you would say that, you old fool," Gowardred thought to himself, but aloud he said. "I agree. We should strike no bargain with the chief of the Dunlendings, even less with any who would occupy the only remaining stronghold left by Sauron."

"Still," Glamdring continued. "This Belial did make an interesting point. We now sit in a valley with two potential enemies at our backs. We could not hope to hold off the Wild Men alone, with the small garrison here, let alone a combined assault from Dol-Guldor as well."

"Are you suggesting some duplicity on our part, Master Councilor?" Gowardred asked with a slight smile.

"Not at all, My Lord," Glamdring replied. "We should send for reinforcements, and then I merely suggest delaying the resolution of this offer until help arrives."

Gowardred rose and walked over towards the pedestal where the Palantir rested.

"What of this gift?" he asked, touching the smooth surface. There was a flash, and instantly he beheld an ancient fortress, nestled in the mountains. Snow floated down through the air, covering it in shades of black and white so vivid that it hurt his eyes.

In his mind, he heard a soft, husky, feminine voice whisper to him. "All that you desire."

Then his finger was off the crystal and he blinked.

Glamdring considered. "It is a kingly offering, to be certain. This is more the reason, I say, to consider carefully our next course."

"All that I desire," Gowardred whispered aloud.

"My Lord?" Glamdring asked.

Gowardred blinked again. He hadn't meant to speak openly.

"All that I desired," he said again. "Was to serve this post in a time of peace and earn the respect of our king through honorable service and repair the damages caused by the enemies of Rohan. I have no desire to be mingled in intrigues and plots."

He resumed his seat and rubbed his temples.

The old man smiled understandingly. "Such are the reigns of leadership, My Lord."

Gowardred smiled and nodded. "Leave me for a time. I have much to consider."

"Of course," Glamdring bowed and withdrew.

The massive doors of the chamber shut with a resounding thud, sealing Gowardred in the room, alone with his thoughts.

All while he pondered, his eyes constantly returned to the Palantir. The smoky crystal seemed to shimmer somehow, as if the colors and mists within were something alive, floating like disembodied spirits in that tiny sphere.

"All that I desire," He whispered again.

He rose and stepped quickly over to the magical stone, his eyes fixing on it with a mixture of wonder and anxiety.

"What doom is it, I wonder? "He whispered. "To walk in the shadows of great deeds, embracing all that was and hoping to reclaim it!"

His hand came down and clasped the Palantir and his eyes snapped shut.

When Glamdring returned the next morning, he was startled to discover Gowardred, seating on the throne. He looked pale and haggard.

"My Lord?" He asked as he entered, followed by two guards. "Have you taken no food or rest since yesterday?"

"The considerations placed before me have weighed heavily upon my mind, old friend," Gowardred replied. He gestured to the guards at the door. "Send for our guests. Have them attend us as soon as they may."

"My Lord," One of the guards replied and withdrew.

"I shall conceal myself," Glamdring said, moving towards his closet.

"Stay a moment," Gowardred commanded. "In this meeting, you shall be present and able to speak your mind."

Glamdring nodded his head and stood beside the throne. "As you wish, My Lord."

A short time later, Belial slinked into the room, followed by Volf. Both men paused when they saw the old man standing beside Gowardred, but recovered quickly, to their credit.

"Yesterday," Gowardred began. "You came to me with gifts and offers of peace, conditional upon my acquiescence to allowing the Dunlendings, once our enemy, to dwell again in the vale of Isengard. Without word to that effect, you all but told me of your intent to attack Isengard should I refuse."

"I myself, made no threat against you, Noble Lord," Belial began.

"Silence!" Gowardred commanded. He fixed his gaze upon the Chief of the Wild Men. In the corner of his eye, he could see a smug smile appearing behind the thick whiskers of Glamdring's white beard.

"I am not inclined to grant the Dunlendings leave to dwell in this valley without certain assurances," Gowardred continued.

Belial looked at Volf, and then back to the Lord of Isengard.

"What would your terms be, Lord?" Belial asked.

Gowardred rose and stepped next to Glamdring.

"I trust that our messenger has been dispatched to Edoras?" he asked.

"He left at dawn, My Lord," Glamdring replied.

"Very well," Gowardred nodded.

In a flash, he drew a dagger and rammed it through the old man's back.

Glamdring's eyes went wide in surprise. He let a small gasp escape his lips, but no more, and then crumpled to the ground.

"If you desire to dwell in this valley, Volf," Gowardred said, wiping his blade clean on the old mans robes. "Then make sure that messenger does not reach Edoras."

Then he stood and stared at the Dunlending Chief. "Bring your men to Orthanc, and destroy the garrison here, down to the last man. You may then occupy this keep, and the surrounding land, under my governance."

"You are asking us to slaughter your own men, My Lord?" Belial asked in shock, looking down at the corpse on the ground.

Gowardred looked at Volf and for the first time, they seemed as kindred spirits, their eyes both alight with fierce fury.

"You have a body guard, do you not?"

Volf nodded. "Fifteen of my finest hunters."

"Let them hunt the guards within the tower," Gowardred ordered. "Clear this place of Rohan's men, and take their places." He ripped his fine horse head broach from his cloak and cast it into a corner. "Eliminate the messenger, and destroy the Rohirrim within these walls. Once this is done, we shall meet again."

Volf grinned, gave a nod and exited the chamber. A few moments later, there was a brief sound of things thumping against the door, the ring of steel, and then ominous silence.

Now Gowardred turned his dark gaze upon his other guest.

"As to you, Master Belial," he said. "What have you to offer, besides the ruins of an ancient stronghold, lost in the woods, miles away?"

Belial didn't miss a beat. He smiled. "I have much to offer, My Lord. You seek power to order all things in your world to your design. Here, within this place, secreted away, that knowledge – that power – has lain hidden. In my fastness at Dol-Guldor, I learned many secrets, many arts that are thought to be lost. I also discovered that Saruman had taken and copied many of the writings of the Lord Sauron, centuries ago, and closeted them away, here, somewhere in Orthanc. I know where these great secrets are kept. And I shall share with you that knowledge that will give you the strength to claim all that you desire."

Gowardred smiled in a way that would have frozen water. "You understand, Master Belial, that I have just committed a great treason against my kindred. Should your promises prove false?"

"My promises are true, My Lord," Belial replied. "And the influence of My Lady shall protect you. I myself shall return to my fastness in Dol-Guldor and order your protection at once."

"No," Gowardred replied evenly. "You shall not."

"Lord?" Belial seemed confused.

"You came as a friend, and yet I perceive plots within your errand. Plots that may not be known even to your Lady, whom you claim to serve."

"My Lord," Belial began. "I can assure you,"

"No, you cannot," Gowardred said sharply. "You will not come into this place and then slink away, leaving me at the mercy of your allies, or my kindred."

"What do you propose, My Lord?" Belial asked, his eyes narrowing.

"You shall remain here," Gowardred replied. "Any correspondences you need sent, may be transported by courier to your fastness in Mirkwood. Once the aid you promise has arrived, then we shall speak of your leaving. Your other option is to die, here and now."

Belial was clearly unhappy with this turn of events.

"Very well, My Lord." He finally nodded.

"And you shall unlock, for me, the secrets of Orthanc," Gowardred continued. "We shall begin to work towards my ascension to Lordship over all of Rohan."

One narrow black eyebrow rose on the small man's face.

"All of Rohan, My Lord? Is that indeed the limit of your ambition?"

Gowardred smiled. "It shall serve as a start."

"Should I agree to this, now," Belial said cautiously. "I will require something in return."

"Indeed?" Gowardred replied. "Apart from sparing your life?"

"My life is immaterial, Lord," Belial replied easily. "If I am lost, My Lady will appoint another Steward to govern her lands. It is the knowledge I have found, locked in the vaults of Dol Guldor that are most valuable. If I agree to this, it must be in the capacity of allies, bonded by common cause."

Gowardred considered for a moment, his eyes alighting with a hunger that could have been seen as almost ravenous.

"To the conquest of Rohan," He said.

Belial smiled. "To the conquest of Rohan."

Belials eyes drifted to the corpse of Glamdring lying on the floor.

"Very well, My Lord," he said. "Follow me."

With that, Belial strode across the chamber and through a set of doors.

Gowardred followed him, entering the chamber that had once been Saruman's private study.

The room was darkly furnished, with a black wooden desk, oversized chair, and bookshelves lining the walls.

Gowardred wrinkled his nose as he entered. The room felt stuffy and smelled of old parchment. 'Wizard's Smell' he had called it.

"I know this chamber well, Master Belial," he said.

"Ah, indeed, My Lord," Belial replied. "You know this chamber as it is, now. But I know it as it was."

He moved to stand before a large case, lined with ancient books and rolled parchment.

He eyed the imposing piece of furniture for a moment, and then stepped to the side of it.

His hands moved gently up and down along the smooth, worn side, seeking as a blind man would search.

Suddenly, he froze and a confident smile appeared on his face.

"This private study was not always as you see it." He said. "The Traitor, Saruman, changed Orthanc to suit his own devices. Part of that change was to conceal his actions from those who thought him friend and ally."

There was a soft click, and the book case slid to the side, revealing a dark, passage descending into darkness. Cobwebs hung, like wisps of cloud, and fluttered in a cool breeze that the opening generated.

Gowardred felt cool, dry air brush his cheeks as the air flowed out.

Belial took up a candle and stepped to the opening, watching as the small flame consumed the tendrils of cobweb, sending them writhing away like pained spirits.

"Saruman's true treasure of knowledge is below," Belial cooed. "Follow me, My Lord."

Gowardred stepped back into the main audience chamber and grasped a torch from a sconce on the wall. The two men stepped into the abandoned passage and descended into the bowels of Orthanc.

"Saruman knew that his designs for power would garner him many enemies," Belial explained. "He plotted to not only overthrow King Théoden of Rohan, but also his mind was bent upon Minas Tirith, and ultimately, he would betray Lord Sauron as well, and ultimately all of Middle Earth would be under his boot."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "What he did not know, was that Sauron already knew of his ambition and treachery, and so used that ambition to fight his battles for him. He instructed Saruman to create an army. The army that marched on the Hornburg was the culmination of his experiments.

"I remember of the Uruk Hai," Gowardred said grimly.

"Ah," Belial said. "But the Uruk Hai was not the ultimate culmination of the evolution of the Orc. It was merely the next step."

They came out of the descending stair and entered a large, dark chamber.

"Behold," Belial said in a soft, almost reverent voice. "The secret library of Saruman." He began slowly circling the room, kindling several torches left in sconces upon the stone wall.

Gowardred felt his mouth fall open in wonder as the room emerged from the darkness, large and circular, with tall shelves lining the outer edge of the room. Each set of shelves was filled with books or scrolls, hundreds of them.

"What dark devilry lies in this place," he breathed. "How many secrets?"

"Many, My Lord," Belial replied. "Many."

Gowardred moved slowly about the room, smelling the musty odor of old knowledge compiled over many years, even centuries.

"Saruman was one of the council that drove Sauron from his hold in Dol Guldor, many, many years ago. As a result, he and the other members of the council had access to Sauron's store of arcane knowledge. Much of Sauron's library is contained in these copies. Many spells and magicks, tested over centuries, refined, and completed, exist in these works.

"The darkest of magic," Gowardred said bitterly, trying to mask his appreciation for the treasure before him.

He moved to a large circular table that dominated the center of the chamber. Upon it were stacked more books and scrolls. One large, dark leather bound tome caught his eye and he moved toward it cautiously.

"Within this chamber," Belial said, looking up at the nearest series of shelves. "Are the fruits of Saruman's knowledge and wisdom, founded in long years."

"Indeed," Gowardred replied. Without knowing quite why, he lifted the book and quickly concealed it beneath the folds of his cloak. "Indeed."

Gowardred suddenly felt a desire to leave this place. He did not wish to linger here, and he especially did not want to afford an opportunity for his strange new ally to peruse the writings here.

"I have seen all I require," he said quickly. "Come."

"Of course, My Lord," Belial smiled and bowed, preceding the Marshal back up the steps to the main chamber.

Once back in the central chamber, Gowardred slid the tome behind the throne before resuming his seat.

"So," He said. "This discovery was contingent upon assistance, on behalf of your mistress."

"It was indeed, My Lord." Belial moved to stand before the throne, his eyes locked upon the Marshal of Rohan. "My Lady requests that you aid her in the return of a treasure."

"What treasure would that be?" Gowardred asked.

"The mantle of the Lord of the Nazgul." Belial said simply. "The crown of the Witch King of Angmar, lost upon the Pelannor."

Gowardred felt his jaw drop in astonishment.

"The crown of the Witch King currently rests in the treasuries,"

Gowardred cut him off. "In the Treasuries of the King!"

"Yes," Belial replied. "It lies in the vaults of Minas Tirith."

"You would have me assail the walls of Minas Tirith, all the way to the summit of Mount Mendeluin, in order to recover a trinket, lost in a battle some twenty years past?" Gowardred thundered. "Are you mad?"

"That is the condition for any further aid from My Lady, Lord Gowardred." Belial replied. Then he smiled slyly. "Consider this a test of your worth."

"It is an impossible task!" Gowardred replied. "Not with one hundred thousand men could you accomplish this!"

Belial backed toward the exit. "It is the condition, set by My Lady. This and no other boon will she accept."

He stopped at the door and bowed. "I shall leave you to consider this honorable task, My Lord." Then he backed out of the chamber, closing the doors behind him.

The walls seemed to close in around Gowardred as he sat in silence, feeling the weight of his actions begin to slowly crush him. He forces the rising panic down and thought furiously.

He had betrayed his king, murdered his men, and allied himself with the enemy of Rohan, all before even knowing what would have been expected of him. His hunger for power and his untamed ambition had gotten the better of him, played expertly by the slinking emissary of the mysterious lady.

He immediately disregarded any outright assault upon the towering city of Gondor, which left him optionless and close to despair.

As he stared sullenly about the chamber, his eyes fell upon a spider, slowly working its way up the wall near his seat.

He sat, transfixed as the arachnid moved up the side of the wall towards the top of a simple stone support. The entire chamber was utterly still and silent except for that simple minute movement. In fact, if he had not been so filled with despair, he probably would have overlooked –

His eyebrows rose as a plan began to percolate in his mind. A straightforward assault would be vain. But an indirect assault; one that would use the defenses of the mighty city to his advantage.

"Volf!" He bellowed. The doors opened, and the big Dunlending chieftain strode into the hall. There was still blood on his hands and arms.

He stopped and stared hungrily at the Lord of Rohan.

"I need six of your best men," Gowardred said quickly. "They must be fair of face and sharp of wit! Have them brought to me at once!"

"As you wish," Volf said, bowing his head.

A short time later, the six prospective warriors stood before him. He moved up and down, inspecting them. They were all similar, powerfully built with fierce eyes, and long, unkempt hair.

Gowardred winced. "These are your best?" he asked, barely masking his disgust.

Belial, who was now lounging near the entrance, watched intently as Gowardred looked the recruits up and down.

"What is your plan, My Lord?" he asked.

Gowardred paused in his pacing. "Instead of assailing the towers of Minas Tirith. I propose we slip in quietly."

"I see," Belial replied, musing. "With your permission, Lord?" he offered.

Gowardred nodded.

"Master Volf," Belial instructed. "Bring the slaves of your house to this place, and have them attend these men."

Volf nodded and withdrew.

"For this deception to succeed," Gowardred continued, addressing the six men before him. "You must learn to blend in with the men of the west, how they think, their customs, their expressions. To that end, you shall be instructed in their manners and etiquette. You will also learn our art of riding, so that you may escape capture in the task I shall set before you. Should you succeed, I promise a handsome reward, befitting a lord of the Mark, for each of you."

The men looked from one to the other, their eyes alighting hungrily.

The slaves were brought in, and instructed to clean up the six men before the Lord of Isengard. Then the entire company withdrew.

Belial watched them depart, his narrow eyebrows arching in curiosity.

"May I inquire?" he began.

"You may not," Gowardred cut him off. "Your Mistress has set this task before me. I will not have you meddle in it!"

Belial's gaze turned cold, but only for a moment. Then his smile sprouted again. "As you wish, My Lord."

When the six prospective men were brought before Gowardred again, they had been bathed, their hair and beards had been trimmed, and they were clad in clean garments. On the outside, they looked like any wandering traveler in those lands, except for the smoldering wrath in their eyes. They stood tall, proud and defiant.

"Much better," Gowardred nodded.

It was a tribute to Volf's instincts when his choices showed unusually apt talent for learning. In a matter of a few weeks only, they had mastered not only the art of horsemanship as far as it would aid them in their task, but their verbal skills had grown to where they could hold conversations in such a way that even Gowardred had to remind himself that he was dealing with a member of the Wild Hill Men of Dunland.

One of the men, a tall, handsome man named Chras had taken the role of leader of the party, and it was he who spoke most and listened closest to all the plots outlined by Gowardred.

"You should all enter the city singly, or in pairs, but no more than that," Gowardred instructed. "Locate a dwelling, as high up in the city as you may, and use that as your meeting place."

"Very well, My Lord," Chras nodded, studying the ancient map of Minas Anor, now Minas Tirith, yet another of the treasures to be salvaged from Saruman's private library.

Chras studied the map with a keen eye.

"This ridge, on the western face of Mendeluin nestles up against the actual wall of the city, see?"

Gowardred nodded. "It is the steppe above that section that you shall use. Move around to the southwestern face of the mountain and then climb up and come to the palace from behind. The peak of Mendeluin should give you an opportune point from which to observe and then execute the plan."

"Where are the royal stables?" Chras asked.

"Very near to the entrances of the Royal Treasury, here," Gowardred indicated the map. "I recall, from my last visit there, that the main courtyard and the stables are lightly guarded. Once you gain egress from the palace, you will encounter little resistance. It is the escape from the city that concerns me most."

"I have a strategy to deal with that, My Lord," Chras replied with a cruel smile.

Gowardred blinked. "This man is a Dunlending," he reminded himself again. "Yet I feel as though I am holding a council of war with one of Eomer's captains."

"Only five shall make the ascent, while the sixth stations himself outside the palace, along the escape." Chras pointed to the first switchback leading from the palace. "The palace is sure to have archers at the ready, if not pike men that they may call further down. I have decided that the crown shall be handed off to the sixth man, and then the remainder of the party will make for the main gate and attempt to flee the city. If they can stay ahead of the alarm, they should make the escape."

"While at the same time, focusing the attention of the city upon them and allowing the sixth man to sneak from the city undetected, once all settles." Gowardred completed.

Chras's smile widened. "Very good, My Lord."

That had been nearly a month ago, and in the time that followed, Gowardred spent many hours in Saruman's private library, poring through volume after volume of lost or forbidden knowledge, seeking the one thing that could guarantee his victory. His six spies, sent into Gondor had not returned, and now, word had reached him of an expedition that had crossed the plains of Rohan, aided in the journey by a daring strategy, executed by the Fourth Marshal of the Riddomark, Breggolard.

That meant that the marauding bands of Uruk-Hai, remnants of Saruman's army, augmented by fresh creatures, bred in Dol Guldor, had been distracted from their mission of severing all ties with the east. Soon, the small marauding bands between he and the two strongholds of his country, Edoras and the Hornburg, would need to be withdrawn and regrouped.

Gondor would come to the aid of the beleaguered city of Edoras, then it would open the way to the Hornburg, and finally, the combined strengths of those three forces would come for him.

No matter. He held six thousand in the field, plus another one thousand Dunlending's garrisoned with him in Orthanc. Belial's promise of an additional two thousand of the newly bred Uruks would arrive within the week, as promised, along with all the machinery of war that he required. If only there was something more he could utilize to secure his treacherous position before the hammer stroke fell.

He turned the page of the book and his attention became completely focused on the words written within. It seemed to be a portion of one of Saruman's many journals. The previous page had been smeared to the point of being unrecognizable. However, this leaf was still discernable to him.

…_but what if I supplant him? If the One Ring comes to me, I would have that power. Gandalf never bothered to consider that possibility. Then again, perhaps he did, but dismissed it out of hand – ignorant fool. He is a powerful member of the council, to be sure, but he is weakened by his compassion for the less fortunate._

_The Dark Lord, Sauron, had commanded me to build him an army, one worthy of his great kingdom. While this order was not a surprise, the swiftness of it was. I had not had the time to prepare Isengard for this task. While I shall never accept that I felt fear at his order, I will admit to a certain amount of concern. I had only just begun my research into the breeding of such creatures. Fortunately, I have, in my library, the only remaining copy of the works of Melkor, who was the Master of Sauron in the Elder Days, before the fall of Gondolin. I had achieved some small success in following his works and created a force of laborers that would do my bidding, but they were weak and could not serve me as I needed in war. For that, I needed something better. Something that will strike fear in the hearts of those miserable Horse Tamers to the south. Melkor's dark works served me as a start, but they were far from complete, and Melkor himself, confessed that he had been hard pressed to create his armies. The process had been far from perfected._

_Where he had failed, I had been more successful. Indeed, I had been fortunate to capture several elves before deciding my course. I knew now, that my soldiers could be bred quickly and with little difficulty, though I would need a place to carry this out._

_My first task was to dam the river, allowing the deep pools of Isengard to drain, opening vast pits within the ring of stone. That task was already underway when Gandalf arrived near midsummer, and I feared that he might suspect something. Fortunately, the wood around Isengard had not yet been harvested and the sinking lakes were kept from his prying eyes._

_Still, I must confess that it is a shame that Gandalf could not be persuaded to join me in my quest for the One Ring. Even as a servant, he could have been useful. Then again, his penchant for compassion would have been my undoing in the end. No, better he rot on the roof of the tower, where his words and magic could do no harm._

_Once the trees were being felled and the furnaces lit, it was time for me to address the shortcomings of Melkor's breeding process. On the fourth level of my tower, I kept my prisoners, locked in small windowless cells, chained and helpless. I held three females and two males, which I planned to utilize as templates for my soldiers._

_The powerful magicks that Melkor employed to transfer elf into orc were tiring for me, involving ancient incantations that had not been uttered aloud for ages uncounted. Also, I was not convinced of their potency. Yes, they would work to transform the elves into twisted aberrations, but I needed more than that. Much, much more!_

_Out of the male prisoners, I managed a fairly complete transformation, though they were wild and unsalvageable, they provided materials for the next phase of my experiments. From them, I was able to grow, in my first pit, a small group of five basic orc kind. They were loyal, but unusable in war. I needed something stronger! Something that could move by day, as well as night! This was where Melkor's endeavors had fallen short. He had simply utilized these base creatures and improved them as much as possible, but they were still short, unruly, undisciplined, and unable to move in daylight, like the orc hordes of my supposed master, Sauron._

_I needed a creature that could combat them as well as the world of men!_

_It was at this point that serendipity aided me! I still had three female elf prisoners to utilize! In them, I could accomplish what I desired. Of the three of them, there was one, a tall, splendid maiden, that I surmised would serve me best in this?_

_Taking one of my new children, the most promising one, and I ascended the steps and paused outside the door. I instructed my orc to wait without, and entered the chamber._

_There she hung. Vale' Vana, a soft beauty of the Silven family, her small wrists wrapped in the iron manacles, and held above her head as she hung in the center of the tiny space. Even after many weeks of imprisonment, with little food and water, she was still lovely to behold, hanging in her shapely nakedness. _

_In spite of the complete darkness of the chamber, I beheld a glow in her skin, as if a light burned within her very form._

_Her deep blue eyes opened and regarded me. I was amused at the amount of defiance mingled with her questioning gaze._

_What could she know of my desires? One cannot explain the art of destiny to another. My plans were subtle and intricate, of which she would now have to play her part._

_I stepped before her, my fingers tracing the arcs of her flesh, feeling it tingle under my touch. I found her soft wince of disgust strangely pleasing. I continued my inspection, reaffirming that she was indeed perfect for my purposes. She was tall and fair, with soft, velvety skin and delicate features. Her long dark hair hung past her narrow shoulders. My fingers traced the outline of those shoulders, down to her waist and back up again over her breasts as I walked around her. When I looked into her deep blue eyes again, they were filled with questions. _

_I smiled again and stepped back by the door, seating myself upon a small stool. Then I gestured to the door. The orc entered and I watched with satisfaction as Vale' Vana's eyes went from weary curiosity to wide horror._

_I followed her gaze to the face of my child. The orc stared at her, as if enchanted. Perhaps something of the elf that spawned him still lingered. Well, that could be mended in the next batch._

"_You know what to do," I instructed the orc. The creature looked to me, and then back again._

"_Get on with it!" I ordered the orc._

_The misshapen, dark face suddenly leered at her hungrily, and I could see the necessary physical reactions required. It shambled forward, towards her. Her wide eyes went even wider and then she cried out as she realized what was to come._

_I stayed and watched for a while, observing the actions and reactions of the breeding. Of particular interest was the way that Vale' Vana struggled at first and cried out. Then her eyes seemed to dim, if that were possible. They glazed over and she finally offered no further resistance, allowing the orc to complete his task. The soft glow that I had perceived upon entering, seemed to fade as her flesh was scratched by the orc claws._

_I watched until her cries had fallen to soft, unintelligible gasps and whimpers, then I rose._

"_Remember!" I ordered. "She must be left alive!"_

_The orc paused for only a moment, looking up at me with deep, reddish eyes. Its grotesque features frozen in that same hungry leering grin. _

_It looked down at the elf before him. He stared at the myriad of bleeding scrapes on her soft back, then clawed fingers grasped her at the hips and it resumed its animalistic thrusting._

_I paused as I sensed the approach of yet another figure. Stepping quickly to the balcony, I saw the entourage of Wulff, the leader of the hill tribes of men. He was a grimy, wild looking man, typical of his kind, having been forced to eek out a meager existence in the rocky hills on the outskirts of Rohan._

_So, the Hill Men had accepted my invitation. Excellent. With their aid, I could begin my campaign against the Rohirrim, thereby allaying Sauron of any suspicions while I perfected my own army. I would have his allegiance, no matter the cost!_

_I would set them loose upon the outer edges of the Westfold, knowing that they would be the most poorly defended of old Théoden's people. Soon, the entire land of Rohan would be ablaze, and Gondor would lose its most powerful ally._

_I would have to supply the Hill Men for a time. I needed them to wait for at least several months before we began, which was enough time for me to begin to utilize my new breeding pits…_

Gowardred slowly closed the book, feeling the rough texture of the old white leather. A strange smile crept across his face.

The Orc Breeding Pits of Orthanc, which lay beneath this very chamber. If he could use them to craft creatures that could augment his strength…

The Lord of Orthanc spent the next days studying the tomes of knowledge buried within the vaults of his keep. He discovered many secrets, except the one he coveted most. The ways of breeding the fierce, loyal fighters of Saruman continued to elude him. He began to neglect his other duties as his obsession began to dominate his every waking thought, and then later, his dreams. His mind was filled with the images of fierce armies sweeping across the plains of the Westfold, all the way to the gates of Edoras until he, Gowardred, stood face to face with King Eomer.

In the dream, which now often invaded his waking musings, he saw the high and noble king, upon bended knee, offering the crown of the Eolingas in surrender. The captains of the Mark were dead on the field or stricken within the hall, the king's finest bodyguard, slaughtered by the sheer strength of his followers. Beyond the grand windows, he could see the rest of the wooden city, burning to ashes.

In his dream, the stronghold of Helms Deep had already been conquered. His new seat of power, wrought of cold stone, unassailable, impregnable, and it was all his.

He heard the sounds of people entering the chambers above. He quickly concealed the precious volume and moved up the secret way into the small circular study. After a few moments to compose himself and make sure no stray cobwebs had adhered to his clothing, he stepped into the main chamber.

There, standing proudly in his travel stained cloak, looking fierce and haggard, was Chras, a large wrapped bundle beneath his arm.

"It is done, My Lord," He said proudly. The Dunlending extended the bundle to Gowardred.

The Lord of Isengard smiled hungrily and reached out to receive the object.

"And the others?" he asked.

"None survived, My Lord," Chras replied. "One was killed in the assault upon the treasury, the remaining four were struck down as they made the attempt to escape the city."

"Struck down, you say?" Gowardred asked as he held the heavy cloth in his fingers.

"Yes, My Lord. They made good their escape, appropriating the horses of the royal stables, and managed to reach me on their way down, but they did not reach the main gates."

"The alert was sounded then," Gowardred nodded.

"It was not, My Lord," Chras said. "They managed to kill the trumpeter on the pavilion before making their ride. No call was sounded before they made the first turning."

"Then they should have escaped," Gowardred said. "As long as they preceded the call to close the gates, they should have made good their escape."

"There were warriors," Chras continued. "Bearing strange sorcerous weapons that killed from great distances. A man upon the summit killed one rider as he passed my place of concealment. I saw the wounding, though I never saw the weapon which struck him. I retrieved the crown and concealed myself."

"Did you see these warriors?" Gowardred asked.

"I beheld two of them, My Lord." Chras replied. "One of them was large, a man of the deep Harad, though he wore not the garb of one of that ancient tribe, and he spoke strangely. The second was a woman."

"A woman?" Gowardred exclaimed.

"Yes, Lord," Chras went on. "She was tall and powerful, with hair the color of night, and eyes like sapphires, keen and bright."

"What tokens did she bear?" Gowardred asked. "From whence does she hail?"

"I saw her tokens, My Lord, and yet, I know not the lands from where those devices hail. They were not of the Harad, nor were they of the Rohirrim, Nor of the Rangers of the West. She bore one special mark. A weapon, circular, divided in the center by a line of steel, like a wave upon the sea. But again, apart from my description, I can tell you nothing of the lands from whence it hails."

"The King of Gondor seems to be taking strange council," Gowardred mused. "And yet, without more pieces, this riddle offers no conclusion." He unfolded the last of the cloth and revealed the contents.

"Unknown answers make for perilous riddles," he breathed as his eyes beheld the artifact.

The crown of the Morgul Lord was more a battle helm than an actual crown, with long, angular cheek and nose guards and sharp spikes that reminded Gowardred of the ancient dragons he had heard tales of in his youth. It was not of silver or precious metal, but seemed more to be fashioned from deep gray iron, heavy and unyielding.

"The Crown of the Nazgul Lord," Gowardred breathed, raising the thing to look at it evenly. "King of Angmar, long ago. It is rumored to bestow great power to any who wear it."

"I know of no such rumor, My Lord," Chras said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"The lower vaults of this citadel contain vast treasures of lore, dating back to the Elder Days," Gowardred breathed. "It speaks of the fashioning of such devices and their powers. Immortality, invincibility, the power to dominate the wills of others."

He turned the crown and raised it to set it upon his head.

The door to the chamber opened and Belial came quickly in, his eyes ablaze and his pale cheeks flush with anxiety.

"Claim not that which is the prize of My Lady!" he bellowed in an unusually strong voice that echoed up the massive hollows of the tower. "Its powers are not yours to command, Lord Gowardred!"

He clapped his hands together once and two of the Dunlending guards entered with weapons drawn.

Gowardred's eyes were wide with excitement, or perhaps madness. "Silence, snake! You have served my purposes, and for that I shall reward you by sparing your life, but do not hinder the will of the Lord of Isengard! This wondrous thing is mine to possess! Mine to control! And I shall suffer none to oppose me!"

"It is a power beyond you, Lord," Belial retorted.

"You forget, Master Belial," Gowardred said in a strong voice that echoed up the shaft of Orthanc. "I am a Marshal of Rohan – a chief and captain general of my people! I have the will and the right to claim such a prize!"

With that, he set the thing upon his head, and discovered to his delight that it fit upon his brow as if it had indeed been crafted for him.

"Your mysterious Lady has no power over me in this place, and neither shall you!" He continued, his eyes wild. "And soon, even the King of Gondor shall bow before me and call me Lord!"

He could actually feel the power flowing into his body, coursing through his limbs and his mind, like warm flames on a cold winter night. The world shrank to something insignificant, malleable. A toy for him to play with. He could hear the minds of the men in the chamber, screaming in despair. Then all was bathed in red fire and his mind and body were immolated in a flood of power so agonizing that it shred what was left of his sanity.

Belials outraged expression faded to a satisfied smile as the Lord of Rohan writhed in sudden agony, his hands rending at the thing upon his head, trying to pull it free.

All eyes watching were impassive, calm, expectant. Only Chras showed any other emotion, that of complete satisfaction.

Gowardred's appearance began to mold and shift, like clay in the hands of some twisted sculptor. His handsome features transformed into the guise of something like an animal. His eyes yellowed and became slanted, his nose flattened and long sharp teeth appeared behind snarling black lips. His skin darkened, as if from burns and his howls of agony became roars of mad rage.

By the time the Lord of Isengard fell to the cold stone floor, he was no longer even remotely human.

"Ah," Belial cooed, looking down at the twitching thing. He stooped and reclaimed the crown, gently wrapping it back in its protective cloth. "My Lady knew that your ambition would not permit you to simply send this yonder. She knew you would attempt this treachery, and so, have you earned her favor."

He stepped back and looked at Chras.

"Is it done?"

"Volf is dead, Master Belial," Chras said evenly.

"Very well." Belial replied. He looked down at the misshapen form of Gowardred.

"Then, My Lord," he continued. "The secrets of Orthanc are yours to govern as you will, as we agreed."

"And the aid your Lady promised?" Chras asked, moving to seat himself upon the massive obsidian throne.

"The first portion of it lies before you, My Lord," Belial gestured to the creature. "Behold, the first of the Huna-Kai. The first of the fighters of Angmar, bred south of Imladris."

He looked back to the two Dunlendings standing near the door.

"Remove this specimen to Dol Guldor. Also, order the Uruk Hai that remain concealed in the hills to join us at once. They shall be needed for the assault upon Edoras."

"Do we have time?" Chras asked, watching as his men removed the Orc from the chamber.

"Even with the messenger to Gondor arriving when he did," Belial replied. "It will take some weeks before they can be counted a direct threat. By that time, you should have several thousand of the Uruk-Hai here to bolster your defenses, with more arriving each day until the army has been mustered. At present, there are five thousand of the Uruks camped in the forests surrounding Isengard. Their strength will guarantee your safety while the muster continues. Once all is ordered, you should have at your command a force of no less than ten thousand of foot, and two thousand Warg Riders. Then shall we march on Edoras, and claim it as our own, and from there, lay siege to the Hornburg. We will let the garrison starve, or ride out to their doom in open battle. Once that is accomplished, you will control all the lands from Dunharrow to the Anduin, and there will be little that the King of Gondor can do to prevent you."

"What of this foray into Eastern Rohan, by the kings horsemen?" Chras continued. "They were beginning to muster when I escaped."

"At best, they should not reach us for ten days, if they were to move with reckless haste." Belial mused. "Send additional forces too the east to impede their progress. We cannot hope to defeat them yet, but we may hinder them and lessen their numbers."

"It shall be done," Chras replied. "And will you be withdrawing to your fastness in Mirkwood?"

"Not as yet," Belial replied. "I shall remain here and see to it that all is ordered under your control before I return. Also, I should check the pits below and see if they can be utilized in our efforts."

"Most generous," Chras nodded his head.

"My Lady is always generous to her true allies," Belial replied with a snake like smile. "Less so for those who would use us as pawns." He stooped and lifted the heavy crown.

"This I shall take," He said. "And have it sent to my Lady in Angmar."

Chras sat upon the throne of Orthanc, his eyes drifting over the ornately carved dark stone of the walls. Unlike his foolish predecessor, he would not serve only himself. His teachings, though quick, had been thorough, and he had understood much, especially in the area of diplomacy. He knew his position was perilous for the time being. He and the rest of his people needed the orcs of Dol-Guldor to guarantee their safety until their own numbers had become adequate to the task of governing their new lands.

His musings were interrupted by the entrance of a scout. The man was covered in dirt from many miles on the road, and his clothing was grimy and travel stained. His eyes were wide with surprise.

"The Horsemen are gathering!" He said without preamble. "They gather to march here!"

"What?" Chras shot to his feet. "You have seen this?"

"I have," The scout replied. "The horses are being fed, and the men armed, gathering from all across his land. He plans to leave in three days, to come here."

"Which would place him at our gates in six days," Chras's unnatural education asserted itself. "He could not hope to raise many in three days. No more than one thousand."

He summoned a second man, standing outside the door. The man was dressed in the cleansed robes of an advisor, though they were somewhat large for him, being that the previous owner of the garments had been a man of somewhat greater stature. He was a lithe young man, with sharp blue eyes and fierce, thoughtful features. "Coya, have four thousand of the Orc host prepared to march in three days. We will meet King Eomer in the fields south of the Isen, and finish him there."

"What of reports that several of our war parties have been eliminated on the eastern plains?" Coya asked.

"We can do nothing to remedy that for the time being. I know that Gurg and his party still remain, and that they fended off an assault by the renegade, Breggolard. All he must do is to keep watch, and send word if he encounters the force coming from Minas Tirith." Chras replied. "He has a strong band, numbering several hundred. He can be left to his own devices for the time being. However, ready another two bands, each numbering one hundred, and have them begin to also patrol that region."

"Do you think this Breggolard enabled a messenger to reach the King of Gondor?" Coya asked with a sly smile that spoke to what he already believed.

"It was inevitable that a message would eventually reach the King of Gondor," Chras replied. "You and I both know this."

Chras turned to a large table, set in the main audience chamber. Upon it was a map of the land of Rohan. He studied it closely, his thumb and forefinger pinching his chin. He pursed his lips, staring at the imagery as if he were expecting the parchment to speak.

Coya stepped closer, his oversized robes swirling slightly, his eyes studied the new Lord of Orthanc closely.

"How many messengers have we prevented from reaching the stronghold of Helms Deep?" he finally asked aloud.

"At least six, Lord," Coya replied. "Feolin of Helm still knows nothing about our plans."

"Yet we have taken much of the Westfold, and this secret will not keep for long." Chras replied. "When are the reinforcements of Master Belial due to join us?"

"Within the week, Lord," Coya replied dutifully. "He is sending twelve hundred of foot. Pikemen and Archers."

The Company of the Fourth Marshall crested the small rise and saw the golden walls and buildings of Edoras emerge from concealment.

Breggolard smiled in relief. The city was still unassailed. He flexed his injured arm experimentally and looked back at the remains of his company. Of the five hundred he had led out, barely three hundred remained, and many of them nursed wounds. They were worn and battle weary after numerous campaigns in the northern plains.

"Make for the city!" He ordered, and the company resumed moving along the winding road that led to the gates.

As the company approached, he ordered the herald to wind his horn in greeting. The call was answered by the trumpeters on the walls, and the large wooden gates were drawn back, opening the city to welcome them home.

Edoras rested upon a large hillock. Its many houses and other structures rose steadily towards the large, shining house of Meduseld, the Golden Hall of the King of Rohan.

Breggolard knew that, within the hall, King Eomer awaited him. He was late, he knew. Late by many days. As the company passed into the gates, men and women emerged to assist with his wounded and tend his horses.

The king's son, Eothein came forward to meet him, his expression one of relief.

"How fares the City, Lord?" Breggolard called.

Eothein took the reigns of Breggolard's horse and nodded.

"All is well," He replied. "Though our supplies are much depleted, the people hare hopeful. How fare the men of the Fourth Mark?"

"Little better, I fear," Breggolard dropped to the ground. The Prince relinquished the reigns of the horse to a stable hand and the two men moved up the long, wide steps towards the entrance of Meduseld.

"I have lost nearly two hundred in prolonged fighting south of the Isen," Breggolard reported. "However, I hope that my extended campaign permitted a messenger to reach Minas Tirith."

"The king already sent messengers to Gondor," Eothein replied.

"We discovered their camp, not five days from here," Breggolard nodded. "None survived."

"Where was Hallas?" Eothein asked. "He was not among your company. Has he also fallen?"

"No, My Lord," Breggolard replied. "He went with the detachment to Minas Tirith, but that is a tale I should tell before the king and his councilors."

"He awaits you," Eothein replied. "But, I warn you. Your late return has not done well for his humor."

Breggolard smiled. "I hope that my tale may remedy that in some small way."

The halls of Meduseld were a long, arched chamber adorned with tapestries and dominated by a large fire pit in the center. A fire blazed in the pit, and several men, all adorned in fine armor, stood or sat on benches near the opposite end.

Upon a finely crafted throne, the king, Eomer, sat, his dark eyes locked on the dancing flames as he pondered. His eyes flicked in the direction of the new arrivals and his expression hardened somewhat.

"At last," he said in a clear voice. "Our Marshall has decided to return to us."

Eothein had been right. The king was not pleased.

"Hail, Lord of the Mark!" Breggolard greeted. "I come with tidings!"

"I should think," Eomer replied. "It has been nigh on twenty days since the time you were ordered to return to us."

"My delay was unforeseen, My Lord," Breggolard explained. "And yet, I hope that my news will mitigate my tardiness."

Breggolard then related his tale, describing all that had happened to him since setting out from the city.

"So," Eomer nodded, once Breggolard had finished. "The orcs have once again moved south of the Isen. And no messengers sent to Orthanc have returned. We must assume that Orthanc has once again fallen into other hands." The king rose, his deep red and black armor shone oily in the firelight. He wore no crown. The only difference between he and his nobles was the quality of the armor he wore.

"They have multiplied, somehow," Breggolard reported. "And they are not moving as orcs do. They have taken to patrolling the lands to the south of the Isen, but not far enough to directly affect us, nor are they moving in the large numbers that we are accustomed to tracking. The largest force we encountered only numbered in the hundreds, and this was a small company, equal to one of ours. No more than three hundred of foot, armed with pikes and bowmen."

"They have not the strength to assail us, even here in the wooden city of Edoras," Eomer nodded. "Yet that could change, if they are breeding somewhere. These orcs you destroyed. They were like to those that we defeated at Helms Deep, all those years ago?"

"In many ways, Lord," Breggolard replied. "Yet, they do not behave with the single minded hatred of the Uruk Hai. They seem more capable of acting upon their own initiative. Our ancient tactic of striking down their officers to sow disorder in their ranks has not had the same success as in the recorded past. They act now on their own initiative, with greater skill than any I have ever heard tell of before."

The king stepped before a table and looked down at a map of the country, frowning in contemplation.

"I see," Eomer nodded. "And these are the orcs that also patrol to the west, between Edoras and the Hornburg. They have also begun to patrol our eastern borders, intercepting messengers between Gondor and Rohan."

"They have not the numbers to encircle us properly," Breggolard replied. "They have moved south only as far as their numbers will permit to secure their lands. The parties to the west and east are scattered and difficult to find. I deem that they are not sufficiently armed to assail us in force, though I believe that moment is fast approaching."

"They have already despoiled many of the farmsteads in the Westfold," Eomer replied. "Our supplies dwindle each day and our people have been driven from their homes before the fall harvest. This attack upon us is coming faster than you think, and we dare not send our people to the Hornburg with the Western Plains occupied by the enemy. Our foe has learned to keep us from Helms Deep. They will draw the battle here."

"I have faith that Hallas and his party reached Gondor, My Lord." Breggolard said. "He is a most capable man, and the strangers I reported to you were also greatly skilled."

"Yet they fell," Eomer countered.

"They were only two women, against no less than thirty of the enemy," Breggolard said. "And they held out till our charge. It was no small tribute to their skill as warriors to survive an ambush such as that."

"And you sensed no treachery in them?" Eomer asked.

Breggolard shook his head. "Though I did not get to speak with the one, as she was wounded. I could sense no duplicity in her squire."

Eomer smiled. "I have long trusted your judgment in the hearts of others, my friend. If they survived the journey to Gondor and managed to gain the aid we seek, I shall welcome them as friends."

He turned back to the rest of the assembled men in the hall.

"As to the rest," he ordered. "Send messengers to all the lands unafflicted by the enemy so far. Have all able bodied men return to Edoras, gathering what supplies they can to withstand a siege here and bolster our defenses. There will be no retreat to Helms Deep, as has been done in the past. We must defend Rohan here amongst the golden halls."

The king strode out to the large step and looked down at his small city. The thick timber walls surrounded the hillock, but they would burn. The ramparts and walkways would burn, the thatch roofs of the smaller houses would burn. He sighed in resignation. Should they come under direct attack, they would be forced to leave this place and meet their opponent in the open field.

Several riders gallops from the main gates and moved off along different directions.

Eomer finally nodded as if he had concluded some inner council.

"How many men do you have left in your company who are still able to fight?"

"Less than one hundred, My Lord," Breggolard replied. "Were it not for the injuries suffered by my men, I would still be afield, trying to slow the approach of war to our gates."

Eomer turn and strode purposefully back into the hall.

"How many men can we muster out in three days time?" He asked aloud. Several of his captains exchanged glances.

"At most, My Lord," One of them spoke. "We could muster out close to one thousand on horse."

Eomer thought for a moment. "In three days, we shall ride forth with as many as can be summoned."

"Ride, My Lord?" Breggolard asked. "To where?"

"If war is coming, and I feel that each of us in the hall believe that it is," Eomer said. "Then I shall not sit idle and wait till it is upon our doorstep. Our enemy gathers in the north, near the Isen River. That is where I shall go. If anything, it may offer an opportunity for the rest of our people to make for the safety of Minas Tirith."

"My Lord," Breggolard said cautiously. "I have every hope that Master Hallas reached Minas Tirith, and I trust in the alliance with Gondor. The king will send us the aid we need."

"That may be so," Eomer replied. "But will the aid arrive in good time? We cannot wait."

Eomer took a deep breath. His eyes were focused inward as he pondered his options.

"We cannot hope to hold Edoras, standing behind wooden walls," He finally said. "In seven days time, we will take whatever strength arrives and march north towards Isengard. We shall meet whatever fate awaits us in the field, not cringing behind brittle defenses."

He turned and strode back towards his throne. "Send scouts to survey the lands in all directions." He ordered. "Find them, and return to me at once."

Several other members of the court bowed or nodded their heads and withdrew.

Eomer sat down, his hand coming up to brace his bearded chin.

"Now," he sighed. "We must wait and see."

21


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

In war, an idle target is an easy target. The target that can maneuver always has the advantage…

Shin-Chi- Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

The muster of Gondor took ten days to assemble, but once complete, over three thousand men were prepared to ride towards the stricken kingdom of Rohan.

On the eve before they were set to depart, the king invited General Palanthus, Xena, Gabrielle, Tyrion, and the others to join him for one final feast. The mood was somber, with most of the discussions revolving around the potential battle that the company would be riding into.

General Palanthus was a tall man, strong and proud, with noble features and long black hair and beard. His eyes were a pale brown, keen and bright. He had an air that spoke to him hearing things both said and unsaid.

After an hour, it was obvious that a mutual respect had been forged between the general and Tyrion. They spoke softly together, each one adding to the others knowledge.

Xena sat, unusually silent, beside Nicolla. The two wore identical expressions, and spoke mostly to one another.

Gabrielle watched this, feeling a slight twinge of envy. From the time they had begun traveling together Gabrielle had been the only person Xena had confided in. At the same time, she recognized the somewhat haunted expression in Nicolla's eyes, and knew that the two of them had been speaking about Xena's torture in Cyerna. If Nicolla was able to get Xena to open up, even on some small level, Gabrielle was willing, albeit reluctantly, to accept that.

When the meal was finished, the king rose and looked at the assembled group.

"Before you depart," he began. "There is something I wish to do."

He gave a signal, and in walked four paiges, each bearing various objects.

"Gifts," Aragorn continued. "Tokens from the people of Gondor, who hold you all in high esteem."

Aragorn bid the first two Paiges to step forward, and then presented each of Tyrion's people with long, silver swords, like those used by the soldiers of Gondor. Each was set in a finely crafted scabbard, and hung on a belt of fine, dark leather.

"Let these tokens serve you if your own magical weapons fail." He said.

Each member of Tyrion's team accepted the weapons gratefully. Then Aragorn moved down the line to Xena. He stood before her, and gave her a measuring look.

"Has your path been decided, Lady?" He asked with a smile.

"It has," Xena began, but Tyrion's voice broke through hers. "Gabrielle and I will be going with them."

"We all started out dropping into your world," Tyrion added, and Xena saw a smile begin to appear on the old soldier's face. "Seems only fair that you kick all of us bums out together?"

Several of the other people in the line snickered quietly.

The third Paige stepped dutifully up to stand beside the king.

Aragorn seemed mildly amused by the irreverence of his guests. It seemed to remind him of times long ago, in another life, or another world. He nodded.

"In that case," he continued, turning to Xena. He handed her a long, heavy cloak fashioned of a thick, yet surprisingly light material. "This was given to me at a time of parting, in anticipation of other things which I have already been granted." His eyes drifted to the queen, standing nearby with a soft smile on her face.

"You will find this helpful when keeping out of the sight of enemies, whether you walk in the forest or the plains. These are, perhaps the last of their kind in this world, made by the elves of Lothlorien, many years past." He turned and presented a second one to Gabrielle. "Guard them well, and they shall protect you on your journey."

"Thank you," Gabrielle said quietly.

Xena nodded.

The fourth Paige stepped forward. On his small cushion he bore seven small, golden cylindrical objects.

"These proclamations declare each of you free in the realm of Arnor to the limits of its borders," He continued, handing each of them once of the finely crafted cylinders. "Let no one hinder your coming or going within my kingdom."

After that, the king stepped up next to the queen and they both seated themselves on the thrones.

"Now," Arwen said in a gentle voice. "Rest and enjoy your final night in our fair city. Tomorrow, at dawn, you must depart. May the blessings of all free peoples go with you."

The party took their leave and withdrew.

On their way down the grand corridor towards the exit, Felix stepped up next to Silas.

"You got em?" he asked quietly.

The big man looked down at him with a touch of the old anger.

"Come on, big guy," Felix pleaded. "I apologized for what I said. You know I wouldn't have meant anything like that."

"Fine," Silas replied. "You're still fired."

"Okay," Felix nodded. "I'm fired. Fine. But this isn't about me, you know? So, do you have em?"

Silas sighed like a rolling thundercloud and nodded. "In my pack."

Felix opened the upper flap of Silas's pack and drew out a small, narrow black case.

"Thanks boss," He smiled. "I owe you."

Then he ran forward to catch up to Xena and Gabrielle.

"How you gonna pay for them, you unemployed brat?" Silas growled after him. Then, once the young man disappeared through the door he smiled.

Xena and Gabrielle were walking out towards the main gate, speaking quietly together as Felix jogged up.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

The two women turned and faced him.

"I'm sorry," Felix said sincerely when he realized that he might be intruding on a private conversation. "I can talk with you later, if you, um,"

"It's alright," Xena said with a smile.

Felix looked in her eyes and saw that it was truly not an inconvenient time.

Xena turned to Gabrielle. "We can finish talking back at the room."

"Sure," Gabrielle replied.

Xena gave Felix and uncommonly friendly nod and departed.

Gabrielle and Felix both watched her stroll away.

"I don't know what you said to her," Gabrielle sighed. "Or Nicky, for that matter. But it sure made an impression."

Felix shrugged. "I just suggested that she talk with Nicky, since the two of them would understand everything a lot better than anyone else."

"Better than me?" Gabrielle asked, giving him a critical look.

"That's not what I meant," Felix stammered. "I just meant that Nicolla might be able to get her to open up a bit more at first. Sometimes talking to a stranger can,"

"Xena said the same thing, just now," Gabrielle cut him off. "Have you two been conspiring behind my back?"

"No!" Felix replied defensively, then he saw the smile beginning to blossom on Gabrielle's face.

He smiled wryly. "That was really cold, you know that?"

Gabrielle's smile widened, and then she nodded to the container in his hands.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Hm?" Felix was held by her eyes again. Then he blinked. "Oh, this." He held the box out to her. "For you."

Gabrielle frowned a she accepted the gift.

"I figured, since everyone was giving presents in there, I would just, well," Felix shrugged. Then he gestured to the container. "It's just a little something for you, in case things get crazy on this trip."

Gabrielle grinned and unfastened the small silver latch. When she lifted the lid her smile became something a little bit forced.

Inside the container were two small, compact squarish pistols. They gleamed in the pale moonlight.

"Um, Felix?" She said with sudden unease. "This is, um, nice, really. But I,"

"Now," Felix said, stepping next to her. "Before you get all wiggy on me. We all know how you feel about taking a life. That's not what these little babies are for."

"They're guns, Felix," Gabrielle replied. "Just like the ones that you and the others use."

"Well, yeah," Felix shrugged. "But not really."

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow.

Felix reached into the case and drew one of the small pistols out, holding it up before her. Then he pulled his own side arm out and held it next to the first weapon by way of comparison.

"These are P-2 small caliber side arms," He said. "Civilian issue, so anyone can own them. They're light, compact and easy to conceal." He popped the narrow charge clip from the handle.

"They each fire six, five millimeter plasma bursts." He continued quickly for fear that his gift would not be accepted. "And since we all know of your love of kneecaps, Silas added these."

He gestured to the small additional box attached beneath the short barrel. He placed his finger gently on the trigger and instantly a narrow blue beam emanated from the component. He pointed the weapon at the wall, and Gabrielle saw the tiny blue point there.

"Just put the blue dot where you want the shot to go, and that's where you'll hit. You can pop kneecaps all you like. No one dies." He finished, turning the weapon over and handing it to her, grip first.

"By comparison," Felix continued quickly. He drew out his own sidearm. "This is a P-7 Heavy Plasma Pistol." Again, he ejected the clip and held out the pistol for her inspection. It was clearly a larger, more powerful weapon.

"Now this baby," Felix said with a grin. "Fires nine, fourteen millimeter plasma bursts per magazine. You shoot someone in the knee with this, and it'll blast his whole leg off…" He paused when he realized that his point had been made.

Gabrielle was clearly reluctant to accept the weapons.

"Look," Felix finished. "Those things won't hurt anything more than twenty feet away. It's something to fall back on if everything goes straight to hell, okay?"

"One thing that Tyrion obviously never told you," Gabrielle explained. "I've never used one of these things. Tyrion gave me one when he was helping in Cyerna but I've never fired one of these things in my life, and I'm not sure I want to."

"Well," Felix smiled. "Not a P-7. If you had fired that, you would have killed whoever you hit."

"Felix," Gabrielle interjected. "I appreciate the thought, really." She pressed the case back into his hands. "But I don't ever want to hold a weapon like this."

There was a sudden change in her demeanor, and her expression dimmed.

Felix's smile faded a little as he beheld the change. He studied Gabrielle for a long time.

She felt suddenly uneasy in his gaze.

"How long ago?" he asked suddenly.

"What?"

Felix put a hand on her shoulder. Their eyes met for a long time. Finally he nodded.

"You can always tell when someone's made their first," he sighed. Then he smiled. "Granted, you've hid it pretty damn well." He gave her a nod of appreciation. "So, when did it happen?"

Gabrielle winced as if the memory of that moment awakened real physical pain.

"Almost a year ago," Gabrielle finally admitted in a quiet, sad voice.

"Did you plan it?" Felix asked bluntly.

Gabrielle looked up at him in shock. "Never!"

"Did you have a choice?" Felix continued.

"There are always choices," Gabrielle turned away.

"Granted," Felix agreed. He stepped up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder. "What were your choices at that moment?"

Gabrielle opened her mouth to reply, but no words emerged. The pain was etched on her face.

Felix smiled understandingly and nodded. "It was a split second decision, wasn't it?"

Gabrielle turned and stepped away, her hands rising to rub on the opposing shoulders as if a chill had suddenly settled into her flesh.

"Someone was in trouble, or called for help, and you just reacted, right?" Felix continued. He stepped up behind her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze.

Gabrielle looked back at him, her eyes watering. "I didn't mean it!" she stammered.

"I don't doubt it," Felix replied. "All I'm saying is that in a moment, you made a split second decision. It could have happened to anyone."

"But it didn't happen to just anyone, Felix!" Gabrielle blurted in a desperate voice. "It happened to me, and that was only the beginning! You have no idea!" She stopped suddenly.

"No idea about what?" Felix replied. His eyebrows rose questioningly. "I thought we were getting to know each other pretty well, working down in that library?"

"Felix!" Gabrielle protested. Then she seemed to wilt.

"Gabs," he said gently. "I know that you've dealt with a lot, before and after we dropped in on you. I know that your life hasn't all been happy adventures and heroic outcomes."

Gabrielle's expression softened slightly to something a little less anguished.

"If you ever want to talk about it," Felix said. "I'm willing to listen. In the mean time," He gestured to the small case in her hands.

"Just take them. Better to have an option than no option at all, right?"

Gabrielle reluctantly accepted the box with a nod.

Then she looked up at him and saw his mildly amused expression.

"What?" She asked.

Felix shook his head. "Nothing." He gave her a kiss on the cheek and stepped away. "Better grab some shuteye. We move out at dawn."

The next morning, the party gathered in the main court before the gates of the city. Nearly two thousand men stationed themselves and their horses in and around the city entrance. Final bits of gear were acquired, the last minute supplies were stacked on the wagons, and weapons were checked and rechecked. Then, as the sun rose over the distant mountains, General Palanthus rode proudly to the head of the formation, his armor gleamed silver in the light of morning.

"Men of Gondor!" General Palanthus bellowed in a clear voice. "Our brothers in Rohan have called for aid in desperate times! As they answered us, so long ago, Gondor hears them! Now, on the oaths sworn in service of the king, we ride to our ally!"

Palanthus drew his sword and raised it high above his head.

"The men of Gondor! For Rohan!" He roared at the top of his lungs.

The assembled men roared in response, banging hands against shields or rattling spears against breast plates.

Then the entire formation began filing out of the city and moving across the plains.

Mavon sipped the last of his café and dumped the rest of it on the ground alongside his horse. He leaned over towards Nicolla, looking a touch nervous as she sat in her own saddle.

"You gonna make it?" He grinned as he nodded, indicating the gates.

Nicolla gave him an icy stare. "Don't make me fry your mind, Mavon," she retorted. "Some of us grew up on civilized planets where we don't ride animals any more."

"Ah," Mavon nodded in mock sympathy.

"Looks like Xena and Gabby are a no show," Silas said to Tyrion. They were just ahead of Mavon and Nicolla's little spat.

Tyrion sighed. "Probably for the best, if you ask me."

Felix looked back over his shoulder and grinned.

"Guess again," he nodded, indicating the direction. Then he caught Mavon's attention. "Check it out."

Mavon, Nicolla, Tyrion and Silas all turned and looked.

Xena sat tall and proud, astride a large black charger, her armor was polished and oiled, gleaming in the sunlight. Beside her, Gabrielle also sat astride Storm, the horse that had brought her to this place. Instead of her usual, simple garb, she wore the armor presented to her by Breggolard. It was made of hardened leather, dyed a deep magenta and filigreed in bronze with the emblem of a rearing horse. Her arms were covered in bracers forged from bronze. At her back she wore a shield, like those of the soldiers of Gondor, and her staff rested in her hand.

The two women rode slowly past Mavon, Felix and Nicolla, falling in next to Tyrion and Silas.

"Would you look at that," Mavon grinned.

Felix chuckled while Nicolla gave them both an icy sidelong glance.

Tyrion and Silas kept their eyes faced forward as the company moved through the main gates and out into the field beyond.

As the horses and men formed ranks beyond the walls, turning west towards Rohan, Tyrion finally spoke.

"You ready for this?" He glanced across Silas's massive bulk at Xena, sitting statuesque in the saddle.

A cold smile barely touched the corners of her lips.

"We'll see."

Xena urged her horse further up the ranks, closer to Hallas and the other four riders of Rohan.

At that point, Silas risked a sidelong glance at Gabrielle.

"That's a tough look for you," He said with a smile. "Glad we're on your side."

When no answer was immediate, the big man looked at Gabrielle closely. "Hey, Little Bit? You okay?"

Gabrielle blinked. "Yeah. I'm okay."

Silas studied the young bards' expression for a moment and his smile softened to something more understanding.

"It's gonna be a walk in the park, Lil Bit," he offered. "Don't you fret too much about it."

Gabrielle offered a soft smile in response.

The column of troops moved quickly across the rolling plains of Gondor. They traveled for the entire day, until late afternoon.

Palanthus called a halt and ordered their camp set up in the middle of a vast prairie. As the light of day failed, watch fires sprang to life, glittering like fallen stars amidst the silver grasses under the rising moon.

A large tent was erected for Tyrion and his party, near the one occupied by General Palanthus and his staff.

Tyrion paced casually about the lodging, his knife in one hand and a small chunk of salted meat in the other.

The tent was modestly furnished, with several sturdy, yet comfortable chairs, a beaten wooden table, currently laden with a simple oil lamp and two small trays of assorted, preserved food, and two collapsible bunks from the team's supplies. All resting on several large carpets stretched over the grassy earth.

Near the ornate brazier in the center of the tent, Silas crouched, absently rubbing his hands near the warmth of the small crackling fire.

"The one thing I like about these low tech planets," Tyrion mused as he paced. He sliced a piece of the meat and lifted it to his mouth. "The food is so much better."

Silas raised an eyebrow.

"None of your pre packaged, preserved, genetically enhanced slop," Tyrion grinned. "Just good, old fashioned real food."

He placed the meat back on a small tabled and sliced a piece of cheese from the round beside it.

Silas chuckled. "Well, the first day's under our belts. So far so good."

"We haven't even crossed over into Rohan's territory yet," Tyrion replied. "We should hit the border tomorrow. At that point, I think some forward recon would be in order."

Tyrion sat down on one of the chairs, tested it against his weight for a few moments, and chewed thoughtfully. "Figure, send Mavon and Doc ahead, about two kliks up. Have them keep contact and make sure the road is open."

Silas nodded in agreement. "I'd rather get the jump on someone than get jumped, that's for sure."

Tyrion studied the big man for a moment, and he realized something.

He smiled. "You're still pissed at him, aren't you?"

Silas nodded. "He shouldn't have said what he said, plain and simple."

"True," Tyrion nodded. "But at the same time, he was right."

"I don't give a good god damn if he was right or not," Silas replied. "It was bullshit and you know it."

Tyrion nodded. "Maybe, but he does have every right to do what he wants, with whomever he wants. We aren't in the service anymore. We're all retired, doing this on the side as a diversion."

"That still doesn't mean we chuck the rules out the window, Chief," Silas countered.

"True," Tyrion nodded. "The discipline needs to be maintained, as does our professionalism. But aside from that, I can't tell him not to get involved with Gabrielle, as much as I want to."

"Speaking of Lil Bit," Silas said with a growl. "Doc tells me that she's not a rook any more…she graduated."

Tyrion was stunned. "What? When did that happen?"

The term, 'graduated' was a simple way of stating that someone had committed their first confirmed kill. It was a generalization that helped establish the fact that a person had essentially lost most, if not all of their naiveté. While Gabrielle had seen many things during their last encounter, most of that had been from a safe distance, and she had not been much more than an observer.

"First, about ten months ago," Silas replied with a shrug.

"It's confirmed?" Tyrion replied.

"On her world?" Silas chuckled. "The only thing I can confirm is that we know she did it and she ain't happy about it, that's for sure." The big man stepped over to the table and helped himself to some of their food. "She may get a little jumpy on this one, boss. Especially if she thinks history might repeat itself."

Tyrion nodded. "Or she could snap into place. Either way, we'll keep an eye on her."

Silas nodded.

Gabrielle moved through the small village of canvas lodgings until she saw what she was looking for. He sat on a small chair, outside the large tent, his fingers moving deftly over his data pad. A pair of dark glasses covered his eyes. He seemed to be looking up at the stars, twinkling in the sky.

"Hi Felix," Gabrielle greeted as she approached.

Felix turned his head in her general direction. "Hey Gabby. What's shakin?"

Gabrielle frowned. His movements were less fluid, almost stiff and in spite of him turning to greet her, his face and expression were not directed at her like it normally would.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Felix smiled and nodded. "Fine. Just dealing with the dark, is all."

Gabrielle's frown deepened. Yes it was night, but the fires and the moonlight kept it from being overly dark.

On the small collapsible stand next to him, a tiny dark box rested. The surface was smooth and seamless, with a single amber light flashing slowly. Each time the small lamp lit, there was a soft beep.

"What's that?" Gabrielle asked, pointing at the box.

"What?" Felix replied, and then he surmised her question. "Oh, that. It's my sterilizer and ocular charger." He sighed. "It always takes about a few of hours to recharge them when I push it. With everything that's happened lately, I totally forgot about it, for the last few days, so here I sit." He shrugged. "Still, sometimes its fun to let my other senses do the work every now and then. It's kind of a game, to pass the time, trying to hear everything that's happening while my eyes recharge."

"You meant it when you told Xena you were blind?" Gabrielle stammered.

Felix smiled. "What? You didn't believe her?"

Gabrielle shrugged. Then she looked down at the data pad. "What are you doing?"

"Just going over a few things that Merry uploaded earlier today." Felix replied. "I showed him how to use the scanner, so he could keep translating the information in the Library of Gondor." He smiled again as his fingers moved across the screen. "Little midget's been busy."

"If you can't see, how can you tell?" Gabrielle asked.

"Tactile recognition," Felix replied. He held up his hand, wiggling his fingers and smiling. "It's a form of writing designed to be felt rather than seen. The screen produces impulses in different patterns that I can feel with my fingertips and translate into words."

The tone of the beeping on the box changed, and Gabrielle looked down to see the amber light had changed to green, and remained lit.

"Ah," Felix said with a smile. "Done cooking."

He reached over and picked up the box, setting his data pad down. The top of the container slid open and Gabrielle was mildly horrified to see two eyes, resting inside. They seemed to stare up at her.

Felix lifted the first one and then removed his glasses.

Gabrielle tried to keep her reaction under control when she saw the sunken empty sockets covered by his loose eyelids.

Felix paused and a knowing smile crept across his features. He must have caught the subtle change in her breathing, as well as the gentle shuffle of her feet on the earth.

"Yeah," he said. "Scary isn't it."

"I didn't," Gabrielle protested but Felix held up his hand.

"It's alright, Gabs," He said gently. "Really."

He turned his head down and away as he raised one of the orbs towards his face.

Gabrielle winced when she heard the soft, subtle click as the prosthetic snapped into place.

Felix quickly inserted the second eye and then looked up at her, blinking experimentally.

"Much better," he sighed. Then he saw the slightly horrified expression on her face.

"Hey," he smiled. "It's not that big a deal, Gabs."

Gabrielle smiled uncomfortably. "Sorry. It's just that, even with everything that Nicolla put in my head, it's all still so…so,"

"Alien?" Felix offered.

Gabrielle nodded. "That's as good a word as any."

"Really?" Felix smiled that interminable, enchanting smile. "Why?"

"Well, I don't know," Gabrielle stammered, looking into his eyes with a new mixture of excitement and mild horror. "It's just that, I mean, people shouldn't be able to, well, you know?"

Felix laughed and offered her the seat next to his. "Boy, self expression is really your strong point."

"I communicate just fine, thank you," Gabrielle replied a little shortly as she sat down.

"On a more serious note," Felix began, watching as Gabrielle settled into the flimsy looking folding chair.

"What?" she asked, shifting the seat beneath her to reassure herself that it would support her weight.

"About my little stunt back in town," He offered easily. "Just before I leapt off the cliff. I hope I didn't offend you, or anything. It was just that, after getting to know you over all the time we were in the Library, I guess I've been attracted to you for some time, and I needed to act on it. You know what I mean? I hope I didn't scare you."

She looked at him and smiled. "What? You thought kissing me would scare me?" She laughed. "The kiss didn't scare me Felix. Your jumping off a cliff did."

She stopped adjusting the seat and looked up at him. Their faces were close, and they looked into each other's eyes for a long moment.

"Well," he shrugged. "I had to improvise."

"Uh huh," Gabrielle smiled. "Just don't 'improvise' like that again without warning me first, okay? I like you too, and I've gotten used to having you around."

"You have?" Felix replied, felling somewhat amazed.

"Who else am I going to talk to here that understands my crazy theories?" Gabrielle grinned. "Or at least tries to?"

There it was again. That indefinable and nearly irresistible attraction.

"They're not that crazy," Felix replied. Then he studied her face for a moment.

"You okay?" He asked. "Something you want to talk about?"

Gabrielle opened her mouth to speak, and then shut it again. Felix could see the internal struggle.

Felix waited patiently as the young bard tried to put her thoughts in order.

"I," she finally began. Then she looked down at the ground. "It's hard to know where to start."

"If it helps," Felix offered gently. "There isn't anything you could say that's going to change my opinion of you."

"I'm scared, Felix," Gabrielle suddenly blurted out.

"Of what?"

"I'm scared of you," she went on. "I'm scared of feeling the way I do about you. The last person I felt this way about died in front of my eyes. And watching that happen – I never want to feel that way again!"

Felix placed his hand over hers and smiled.

"And," Gabrielle went on, looking down. "With everything that happened to me, in Britannia, you know?"

"No, actually," Felix offered. "I don't think we ever covered that while we were making google eyes at each other in the library."

Gabrielle gave a nervous laugh and then sniffed suddenly. "When I killed that woman, in Britannia," she started. Then her voice seemed to catch in her throat. "Something else happened right after that, and I – it was terrible and I couldn't." She withdrew her hand and looked away.

"Go on," Felix offered gently.

"I just don't," Gabrielle said. "How could anyone want to be close to me after…"

The realization of what she was trying to relate suddenly became clear to him, and he had to force his expression to remain neutral, in spite of his outrage.

"Gabs," He said softly. "I want you to look at me."

She slowly turned to look back at him, and the desire was there, overshadowed by fear.

"I don't know all that happened to you, okay?" Felix went on. "If I never do, that's fine with me, but I want you to understand something. What you went through is something that no one should ever have to deal with, but it doesn't change what I see here and now."

His voice suddenly stuck when he looked at her. He smiled.

"Whenever I look at you," he started. Then he stopped again. "I'm willing to jump off a cliff, or out of a perfectly good aircraft. I can fix just about anything, but whenever I try and talk to you, I get stuck." He took a few deep breaths.

"It's not that I don't care about what you went through. I do," he resumed. "But just because you went through it doesn't make you less desirable to me, you know? I mean…it doesn't…"

"For crying out loud!" a voice exclaimed from the tent behind them. "You are fucking pathetic, Felix, you know that?" There was the sound of movement within the shelter.

Gabrielle laughed quietly as the sudden tension snapped and melted away. "Hi, Mavon. I didn't know you were in there."

"I didn't know you were awake," Felix frowned, looking back at the wall of the tent.

Mavon stepped out into the cool evening air, his expression one of mild disdain.

"I wasn't awake until you two began yapping," he said shortly. He pointed to each of them in turn.

"You like her, right? And you? You like him, for whatever reason, right?" He continued.

Both of them nodded.

Felix saw some of the tension also dissipate as Gabrielle watched Mavon's rant. Silently, He made a mental note to thank his partner later for the distraction.

"Good, now that we have that settled," Mavon fixed Felix with an angry stare.

Suddenly he whapped Felix across the back of the head with his open hand, "Then kiss her and get it over with, Doc! You both know you want to! What the hell?" In a huff, turned and began walking towards one of the other tents muttering out loud. "All the fucking brains in the outfit and he's still stuck on stupid!"

Felix rubbed the back of his head and frowned, even as the much needed laughter burst from Gabrielle's lips. On second thought, plotting an appropriate revenge against his partner suddenly had a whole new appeal.

Mavon rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he stalked over towards Tyrion's tent. As he passed by a smaller, modern tent, he saw Nicolla, seated within, writing on her data pad.

"Hi Mavon," she greeted him. "I thought you sacked out early?"

"I did," Mavon grumbled.

"What happened?" Nicolla could sense the frustration emanating from Mavon.

At her question, Mavon stopped and turned back to the empty tent.

"Let me ask you a question, Nicky," he said, sticking his head into the confined domicile.

Nicolla could sense that this would be another one of Mavon's short tempered assessments. She set her data pad down and looked up at him expectantly.

Mavon, on a rant never failed to produce concise and brutally accurate, albeit tactless assessments of his surroundings. On more than one occasion, his bluntness had clued her in on potential issues within the team that she was able to head off before escalating.

"Go for it," she nodded.

"Okay," Mavon took a deep breath. "When you get tired, you sleep. When you get thirsty, you grab a drink, right?"

"Tied, sleep, thirsty, drink. Makes sense so far, sweetie," Nicolla smiled expectantly at what she knew was about to unfold. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second shadow approaching.

"If you deny that, you're being dense, right?" Mavon continued. "You get an itch, you scratch it!"

"Itch, scratch. Your logic is impeccable as always. What's the point?" Nicolla asked, fanning the flames of Mavon's temper.

"My point?" Mavon mocked with a laugh. "My point is, Doc and Gabs have been putzing around about whats going on between them for fucking weeks now! My point is that they need to get past this, whatever the hell it is, and get to it!"

"Get to what, Mave?" Nicolla asked innocently.

He took a step back and jabbed his finger back the way he had come.

"Those two need to fu……ah, hi, Xena. What's up?" Mavon caught himself. He looked back into the tent at Nicolla. "They need to get over being gun shy so things can get back to normal around here!" He finished in a whisper.

Xena looked at the blonde haired man, a single eyebrow rising in question.

"Evening, Mavon," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "Something on your mind?"

"Not really. I was just leaving." he said with an emphatic shake of his head. Then he ducked back into the tent a second time.

He glared at Nicolla, who was barely containing her laughter.

"That was jacked, Nicky!" he hissed. "Even for you!"

"But damned funny," Nicolla admitted, laughing aloud.

Mavon backed out of the tent, looking from his tent, to Xena, to Nicolla and back at Xena again.

"You're all going bush," he said. Then he pointed at Xena. "And you're already there! But you aren't going to take me with you, I can tell you that right now! If I got to flap my fucking arms to get back to civilization, just to avoid going wonko I will!"

He turned and stalked off towards Tyrion's tent, near the center of the camp.

Xena watched him depart, a bemused expression on her face. Nicolla poked her head out and also watched the thin man depart, still chuckling.

"What did I miss?" Xena asked.

"Not much," Nicolla stifled her laughter. "Just Mavon being Mavon."

"Ah," Xena nodded. She came in and sat down on a second nearby chair.

"Still keeping your end of the bargain, I see," Nicolla noted, once she had calmed down.

"I gave you my word," Xena countered. "Even though I don't know why we keep doing this. We never really talk about what happened. We just sit here and talk about everything else."

"Yup," Nicolla nodded. She slid her data pad back into her backpack and folded her hands in her lap. "Does that bother you?"

Xena sighed. "I feel like I should be in a sanitarium."

"Why?" Nicolla asked. "Because we aren't talking about what you think we should be talking about?"

"I don't like having people in my head," Xena replied. "I've had enough people mess with my mind already." Then she paused and her expression softened to something more apologetic. "No offense."

"None taken." Nicolla grinned. Then her expression became something more serious. "There are certain rules to what I do, certain ways that I progress when helping someone cope with the things they've seen, or done. I'm only going at the pace you dictate. When you're ready to get down to it, then we will."

Xena sighed. "Until then, its girl talk? We don't have time for that, and I've never been one for small talk."

Nicolla pursed her lips thoughtfully. "We can go into the hard questions, if you like. It's your call."

Xena's eyes drifted to the ground beneath her feet. "We don't have much choice, do we?"

Nicolla smiled softly. "Not really, no."

"Okay, fine," Xena sighed. "Then let's just get to it."

"Okay," Nicolla fixed her with a gentle stare. "How are you dealing with everything I reawakened? I know it affected you profoundly, even though you don't want to admit it."

Xena's steely gaze flickered for an instant. "One of us needs to be strong, Nicolla," She explained.

"Referring to you and Gabrielle," Nicolla said, moving the conversation forward.

"With everything she's been through over the last year," Xena nodded. "Yes."

"Sounds like you don't give Gabrielle enough credit," Nicolla said, musing aloud.

"That's not what I mean," Xena replied a little sharply. She took a deep breath. "It's simply that, with everything she's been through this last year, the whole campaign with Cesar in Britannia, and the temple of Dahok."

"You mean her rape," Nicolla said, keeping the conversation brutally real. "And her subsequent pregnancy and all that?"

"Yes," Xena replied. "And Solan's death."

"Do you still have animosity towards Gabrielle for all that?" Nicolla asked pointedly.

"No!" Xena replied instantly.

Nicolla studied Xena for a long moment, her mind gently sensing the things that Xena was hiding. She was surprise when she discovered that Xena in fact did not hold any animosity about that episode in their lives together. There was, however, guilt.

Xena seemed to sense Nicolla's prodding and she shrugged. "If I hadn't taken her with me," she began. "Then she'd never have had to deal with that. With so many things."

"Very true," Nicolla replied. "In fact, she might have died three years ago, and you'd never have known it." She crossed her legs and leaned back. "If everything you've told me is true, you were dead set on hanging up the sword, so to speak. Just vanish into the ether and never show your face again."

"That was the idea," Xena replied, thinking back to the fateful day she and Gabrielle had first encountered one another.

"You still carry a lot of guilt around for all that." Nicolla said. "Everything that you've experienced since meeting her, as well as all the things that happened before."

"How do you cope with it?" Xena asked suddenly. Her eyes fixed on Nicolla's with an uncharacteristic mix of haunted emotion.

Nicolla shrugged. "Everyone copes with things differently, Xena. You and Tyrion have many of the same ways. You both keep it close and hope to atone for past mistakes, believing that, through repentant action, you can somehow undo all the things you've done."

"Someone wrongs someone else, they should make it right," Xena countered.

"True," Nicolla nodded. "But where do you draw the line? How much atonement is required for past actions that, at the time they were committed, seemed justified."

"I'm surprised you didn't say 'right'," Xena smirked.

"Was it?" Nicolla asked.

"As I look back," Xena started, but Nicolla raised a hand.

"At the time," She pressed. "Was it right?"

Xena was silent for a long moment as she considered. Finally, she shook her head.

"No," she admitted. "Even when I was commanding my army, I think, in the back of my mind, I always knew that my actions weren't right. It was like this little voice, screaming in the back of my mind, telling me – begging me to stop and look at what I was doing, but I was so angry, so ambitious, that I didn't even pause and consider it."

"Do you know the first time you actually considered it?" Nicolla asked.

Xena opened her mouth to reply, and then her guard suddenly flared back up. "What does this have to do with anything?" she asked, almost defensively.

Nicolla shrugged slightly. "Just asking the hard questions, like you wanted."

"I don't want to deal with my entire life," Xena shot back. "Felix said I needed to come to terms with what happened in Cyerna, last year, not everything since my father died!"

Nicolla shrugged, offering a soft, understanding smile.

"And what happened in Cyerna, Xena?" Nicolla countered.

"You know what happened!" Xena replied. "You had to relive it with me when you released the memories, remember?"

"Yes," Nicolla replied calmly. "And I did. But I was able to take comfort in the fact that those terrible things didn't actually happen to me."

Nicolla's gaze fixed on the warrior princess. "You don't have the benefit of that buffer. It did happen to you, Xena. And that much abuse would knock anyone down a few notches."

"Well, at least, thanks to Nicolla's experience, I won't have to rehash all those unpleasant events," Xena thought.

Silas was in mid chew when Mavon barged into the tent, making for the storage chest at the opposite side.

Without asking, he popped the lid and removed the thick glass bottle in the corner.

"Hey!" Silas thundered. "What you going through my stuff for?"

"I need a drink," Mavon replied angrily. He held up the bottle and offered the two men. "Want a hit?"

Silas shook his head, while Tyrion's only reply was to raise his eyebrows and smile slightly.

"Thought you were going to sack out early before your mission tomorrow?"

Mavon took a long pull on the bottle, sighed and nodded.

"Yeah," he said hotly. "That was the plan until Master Loverboy and his groupie started another one of their endless conversations!"

Silas smiled slightly. "Felix and Gabs?"

Mavon pointed at Silas. "You got it."

He gesticulated in between drinks. "Back and forth, back and forth. Like listening to my two nieces bitch!"

"They woke you up," Tyrion nodded.

Mavon nodded. "I figured, okay, foreplay, and then the two of them would move along after his eyes finished charging, but no, they camp out and just start yammering away when the two of them might as well…" he caught himself when he noted Silas's critical look.

He took another pull at the bottle, winced and sighed. "We all know they're into each other, right? Have been since she walked into Silas's club with you."

"That's the rumor," Tyrion replied in a neutral tone.

"Rumor, my ass!" Mavon snorted. "Felix couldn't shut up about her for two fucking years, and now those two have been playing this ridiculous back and forth game for weeks! Granted, it was amusing for the first few days, but now?"

"Why don't you head back to the tent and grab some shuteye, Mave," Tyrion suggested. "I'm sure the two of them are long gone by now."

Mavon shook his head emphatically. "I told them, well I suggested…maybe hinted is a better word…oh Hell, if they aren't in that tent right now, hangin and bangin, then he lost more than his eyes in that blast!"

Silas winced. "Oh man, I do not need to be hearing about Lil Bit like this!" He rose and reclaimed his bottle of whiskey. "Get up out of here and grab some sleep, will you?"

"But?" Mavon began.

"I'm sending you and Doc out on forward recon tomorrow," Tyrion said quickly. "I need the two of you fresh for that, so, no more booze, and you tell Loverboy to hit the sack too, no matter what the two of them may be…discussing. Crystal?"

Mavon looked at Tyrion and then back at Silas. "Two klik buffer?"

Tyrion nodded.

"I can boot her out of the tent?" Mavon continued, a sly smile beginning to tug at his lips.

"On my orders even," Tyrion replied.

The sly smile widened. "Okay, Master Chief."

He gave a half hearted salute and sauntered back out of the tent, his hands in his pockets.

Silas's smile was widening by the moment. "If they're doing anything," He said.

Tyrion's smile also appeared. "I said I can't stop them," he mused. He sliced another piece of salted meat from the plate and grinned even wider. "I never agreed to make it easy for them."

The two men's laughter issued quietly from behind the cloth walls.

Mavon strode back towards his tent and saw the two empty chairs outside. Grinning, he flipped open the flap and strode in.

"Okay you two..." he began, but his voice faded when he saw the two figures lying next to one another within a series of blankets.

His joy at vengeance was replaced by something uncharacteristically softer and more understanding.

Felix and Gabrielle lay next to one another, Gabrielle's head resting on Felix's chest, while he had one arm around her. They were completely clothed, the scene was totally innocent.

The joy at interrupting their interlude was replaced by a sudden understanding that he often recognized, but seldom heeded.

Peace was on both of their youthful faces.

Perhaps it was the snatches of their conversation that he had overheard, or the realization of what Gabrielle was attempting to confess. Or Felix's stammering attempt to find the right reassuring words to help heal those wounds. Either way, in that moment, his master plan had lost some of its relish.

"Son of a bitch," Mavon muttered as he crept quietly to his bunk and settled down upon it. He lay down, placing a hand behind his head and staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes. Then his eyes drifted back to the two slumbering figures nearby. He studied their expressions in the feeble light of the lamp next to his bunk.

Had he ever been that content in his life? Had he ever felt that kind of serenity? Had there ever been that one person that made him so tongue tied and giddy that he couldn't find the right thing to say, sarcastic or otherwise? He couldn't recall.

Yes, there had been friends outside Old Number Seven, relationships both hot and cold, and relationships that began fiery and eventually cooled. He remembered moments of passion that had flared up and then extinguished themselves as fast as a thermal grenade, but nothing that had brought him the contentment he was seeing on his partners face.

Something like a mild envy writhed in his gut. His adolescent desire to spoil that sensation began to percolate in his mind again, simply out of the twisted principle that this was a deployment, a job, a mission, and this type of recreation, no matter how innocent, should not be permitted.

Then again, this might be the last night of relative peace that either of them would have for a very long time, if ever. For him to barge in and spoil that?

His smile reappeared and he rolled over. "Damn blast turned him into a fucking eunuch." He mumbled, and he closed his eyes and let the small amount of whiskey he had consumed aid him in dropping into sleep.

The blaring of the general's trumpets brought the camp to life early the next morning. Instantly, the camp came to life and began to disintegrate as the dwellings were taken down and returned to the supply wagons.

Tyrion sent for Gabrielle, Xena and the rest of his team to meet them at their tent before it was broken down.

Once all of them had assembled, he looked at each of them in turn.

"Okay folks," he began. He tapped the ash off the end of a cigarette and looked at the people in the room. "After today, we are essentially going to be in enemy territory until we meet up with this Eomer's forces and establish the actual situation. Keep your weapons handy, just in case."

He pulled his data pad out and began scrolling down several preliminary notes.

"I want to set up teams before things get hot, so, just like before. Fire teams will be, Silas and I, Mavon and Felix, I'd hate to split the comedy act up."

"Gee, thanks boss," Mavon said sleepily as he took another swallow of café.

Tyrion smiled. "And, with Xena's permission, I'd like to team Nicolla and Gabrielle back together as fire team three, though the two of them will be used primarily as backup on an 'as needed' basis?" He looked over at Gabrielle and Xena. "Any objection?"

Gabrielle looked at Xena and then back at Tyrion. "How would I help?"

Tyrion smiled. "Well, you worked well as Nicky's spotter the last time. I'd like to try that again."

Gabrielle looked at Xena again, and then shrugged. Xena gave a nod of encouragement and the young bard nodded. "Okay."

"Good," Tyrion nodded in return. "You still remember how the gear works?"

Gabrielle smiled slightly. "As well as Nicolla does."

Nicolla smiled and gave her a wink. "We'll be ready to bail you clowns out if you get in over your heads, again."

Xena felt a sudden twinge of anxiety as she saw the renewed camaraderie between Gabrielle and the rest of Tyrion's team. In the back of her mind, she began to feel as if she were about to be left out of the mix again. Tyrion obviously still had reservations about including her in their plans. She blinked when she realized Tyrion was speaking to her.

"Sorry, what?"

Tyrion and the others were all looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"I said, I want you to be the liaison between us and General Palanthus," Tyrion repeated. "I don't want to give these people any advance tech, but since you, Gabrielle, and we have had dealings before, plus you probably speak their lingo better than I do, you'd be the perfect choice."

Xena nodded. "Alright." She was unaccustomed to taking a secondary role in things. Usually she would be the one to assume control, make suggestions or formulate a plan, even if it was unofficial, or subtle. In this situation, it was neither. Tyrion was obviously in charge and she was a subordinate, or being treated as one, just like the others. A part of her wrestled to accept that.

Silas tossed each of the two women an ear transceiver.

"I think the two of you know how these work," The big man offered.

Both of them nodded. Gabrielle quickly and expertly activated the small communications device and slipped it over her ear, while Xena took a few seconds longer to recall how the device worked.

There was something unsettling about how Gabrielle so easily acclimated to the strange devices Tyrion possessed. She set the device in her ear and heard the subtle hiss as the transceiver switched to standby mode.

Indeed, there was something almost spooky about how Gabrielle was handling all these strange devices, their surroundings, everything. Gabrielle's demeanor seemed to have changed somewhat. She appeared more eager, hardened, almost as if she were looking forward to the possibility of conflict.

Even her manner of dress was radically different. She sat in the tent, armored like a warrior and looking as if she had done it for years. Not like the friend she knew at all. Her eyes drifted to Nicolla and then back to Gabrielle again and something like vague suspicion settled over her heart.

"_I need to have a word with her_," Xena thought. To her surprise, Nicolla glanced over at her, as if she had spoken the idea aloud, and gave her an understanding nod.

"Okay," Tyrion went on. "Next item. I want forward recon of the land between here and our destination, so, Mavon, Felix; I'm sending you two out ahead of the column. I want a two kilometer buffer zone between us and anything out there."

"Not a problem," Felix replied. "Radio contact on the hour?"

"You got it," Tyrion nodded. "Prep your packs and head out."

"Done," Mavon nodded.

"That's about it," Tyrion finished, closing down his data pad. "From here on out, I want full combat gear. Keep weapons loaded and safetied at all times. Stay sharp people. Let's get to work."

They all rose and filed out of the tent, just as several soldiers arrived to begin tearing it down.

As the team dispersed, Xena pulled Nicolla aside.

"What's on your mind?" Nicolla asked without preamble.

Xena considered her question for a moment and then decided the simplest approach would be the best one.

"What exactly did you give to Gabrielle?" she asked.

Nicolla shrugged. "She needed to be able to acclimate to the drift, so I gave her a copy of some of my knowledge and training, in as much as it would help her get past any scrutiny by the legal officials. There was also the operation to get you out. Gabrielle needed some basic information to help me as a spotter. That was it. Why?"

Xena seemed at a loss to frame her next question. "Is there a chance," she began. "A possibility that, along with the knowledge you gave her, some of your, I don't know, personality might have gone as well?"

"You mean is there a chance that my psychological traits might have transferred to her as well as my knowledge?" Nicolla offered.

Xena nodded.

Nicolla offered a small shrug. "It's called Neural Blending. Is there a chance? I won't say there isn't a chance, but it is extremely rare. Most of the time, a lower level Telepath can sometimes slip and give a subject some of themselves, or if the subject has some rudimentary skill, might leech some from the sender, but I don't see that happening in this case."

Xena nodded again, her unease squirming in her gut.

"Why do you ask?" Nicolla pressed.

"She just," Xena began. "She seems more, I don't know what the word would be, comfortable with all this."

"Gung ho?" Nicolla offered again.

"If you like," Xena replied. "It's almost as if she's looking forward to this? And yet, there are times that she seems just as reluctant."

Nicolla pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Has she been like this before we all ran into one another again?"

Xena shook her head. "Not that I recall, though the nightmares that she was having before we met you again were really troubling her." She paused.

"Go on," Nicolla pressed.

"Gabrielle has always been persistent," Xena went on after a moment or two. "Even stubborn when something piques her curiosity. I didn't have anything to compare it to before you reawakened everything, but she seems even more driven at times than she used to be. More focused, more," she rolled a hand forward trying to find the right words.

"More like some of us, you mean," Nicolla concluded.

Xena nodded. "Whenever she comes into contact with some of your technology, she seems to go into the automatic adjustment, and for a split second, I don't see her. I see someone else."

Nicolla thought for a moment. "Like I said, there's always a chance. But I would have felt it if she took more than I was giving her. Still, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Thanks," Xena smiled in relief.

Felix adjusted his pack and checked his weapon. He looked over at Mavon who was completing his own preparations. The two of them filled their water packs at a nearby barrel.

"You ready for this, buddy?" Felix asked.

Mavon smiled. "Just another walk in the park, bro." He looked up and his smile flickered for a moment but didn't waver. "Uh oh, here comes trouble."

Felix turned and saw Gabrielle coming towards them.

"I'll be over at the other supply wagons," Mavon offered. "See if I can grab some extra chow for the trip."

"Thanks," Felix nodded.

Gabrielle stepped up to him, the concern was plain in her eyes.

"What's up?" Felix asked, smiling his usual, disarming smile.

"I, um," Gabrielle said uneasily. Then she looked into his eyes and Felix saw something akin to fear in them. "Just be careful out there, okay?"

"Gabs," Felix said easily. "It's just scouting. That's all. We'll be fine."

"I know," Gabrielle replied. She looked down at the ground for a moment and then back into his eyes. "Thank you."

"What for?" Felix asked, mildly surprised.

"For last night," Gabrielle replied. "For not pushing anything, you know?"

Felix placed a hand against her cheek and nodded understandingly. "After everything we talked about last night, I understand, believe me."

"I just," Gabrielle stammered. "It's all still so fresh in my mind. That mess at the temple, and then Hope, and…"

"Gabs," Felix stopped her. "It's cool, really. I do understand."

"I know you do," Gabrielle continued. "I just don't want you to think, well, just be careful okay?"

"I promise," Felix raised his right hand, holding two fingers up by way of salute.

He looked over at Mavon who tapped his wrist impatiently.

"Well," he continued. "I gotta go. See you in a day or so."

They both smiled, and Gabrielle nodded. Then Felix turned to go.

"Felix!" Gabrielle said desperately.

He turned back to face her. Quickly, she stepped up and kissed him. It was warm, passionate, filled with something that could have been the promise of some future meeting. When they parted, both of them were a little breathless.

"Just be careful," Gabrielle said again.

Felix put a hand on her cheek and smiled. "I will."

He turned and jogged over to where Mavon awaited him, and the two of them turned and headed west out of the camp. Gabrielle watched them depart, feeling her heart thumping in her chest. The coms unit in her ear crackled.

"Chief," Felix's voice said. "We're moving out…talk to you in an hour."

"Confirmed," Tyrion's voice replied. "Watch your backs out there."

"Will do."

The rest of the army moved off after them about an hour later, heading across the rolling hills of Gondor towards the golden plains of Rohan.

They encountered no resistance on their journey. By mid day, the company took their afternoon meals, continuing their march. The calls from Felix and Mavon came in every hour as scheduled. The two scouts reported that they had split up, working about a kilometer apart as they continued their trek two kilometers ahead of the column.

"Looks like we're clear a half klik to the north and south of our path, Chief," Felix reported. "All quiet on the western front, so far."

"Any indications of recent activity?" Tyrion asked.

"Negative," Mavon reported. "We found the remains of a camp about an hour ago, but it looks like any action that happened there, happened a while back."

Gabrielle tapped her earpiece. "That's probably the camp that Hallas and I found when we were bringing Xena to Minas Tirith."

"Thank you," Tyrion replied. "Okay guys, keep moving. I'll bring you in when we stop for the night."

"Copy that, Chief," Felix replied. "Recon out."

In this way, the scouting team relayed the information to Tyrion and the others, including Xena, who in turn relayed the information to General Palanthus. Without the necessity of keeping his troops on a higher level of alert, he was able to push them forward more quickly, and by the end of the first day in Rohan, they had traversed nearly half the distance to the city of Edoras.

When they finally stopped for the evening, the sun was falling, blood red in the western sky. Haze rose from the golden plains, bathing all in fiery crimson.

"This day has gone well," Palanthus said to Xena as they brought their horses to a stop. "Your friends are proving most valuable."

Xena nodded.

"Recon to base," Felix called suddenly. It was fifteen minutes before his next scheduled contact. Xena held up a hand forestalling any continued conversation between herself and the General and listened intently.

"Recon, go," Tyrion's voice answered.

"We got something," Felix replied. "I have a cluster moving in a south easterly direction. Small party, about thirty or so."

"Understood," Tyrion replied. "Mavon? You got eyes on Felix's target?"

"Confirmed, Chief," Felix's voice was unusually quiet. As if he feared discovery. "About thirty, description matching Xena and Gabrielle's hostiles. They are about one hundred yards northwest of my position. Damn ugly sons of bitches too."

"One hundred yards!" Xena thought anxiously. She glanced over at Palanthus. "They found something."

"Mavon," Tyrion's voice called over the com. "Can you get clear of them without being seen."

"Working on it," Mavon replied. "Stand by."

Suddenly the open channel was filled with distant, evil cries.

"That would be a 'no', chief!" Mavon cried.

"Mave!" Felix called. "I got you in sight, bring them to me, due south towards the two shallow hills directly ahead of you!"

"Coming your way!" Mavon replied. In the background, the voices seemed to be growing in volume as the enemy party gained on the fleeing man.

"Chief, we are engaged!" Felix called, officially stating the obvious.

"Felix!" Gabrielle gasped for breath, her eyes wide as she listened to the noises drifting over the air.

Nicolla looked at Gabrielle, seeing her fighting the urge to spur her horse towards the scouts.

"Set suppression, full auto," Tyrion instructed. "If that doesn't stop them, work your way due east to our position and we'll cover you!"

"Confirmed!" Felix replied.

"Fuck talking!" Mavon cried with a hint of desperation. "Start shooting already!"

"Almost in range," Felix replied. "Keep coming!"

The sound of desperate breaths echoed through the coms for several excruciating minutes and then…

"Firing!"

In the distance, the staccato sound of gunfire echoed across the waving plains. In the background, the hungry yammering suddenly changed, becoming laced with surprise and pain. Then it stopped suddenly.

"New mag!" Felix called again. "Firing!"

Again the staccato thunder echoed in the lengthening shadows. Then Mavon's voice.

"Firing"

The reports increased slightly in volume and frequency.

Gabrielle's heart hammered in her chest as she listened to the two men, locked in battle against overwhelming odds.

"_Left side, left side!"_

"_I got it, I got it! Target down…Watch your flank!"_

All about the column, men gazed out into the distance, listening with a mixture of wonder and dread as the unfamiliar sounds of battle drifted towards them.

"Those are their weapons?" Palanthus asked.

Xena waived an impatient hand, begging silence.

"_Got him! Down! Mag!"_

"_Pull back! Pull back!"_

"_Firing!"_

"_One running!"  
"Take him down!"_

"_I got him! I got him!"_

"_I'm out! Check right!"_

"_Get off me!"_

"_Fire in the hole!"_

There was a dull thump that reverberated, deeper than the other reports, followed by ominous silence.

"_Nice one,"_ One voice groaned a few moments later.

"_Fuck,"_ A second voice replied.

The echoes of the explosion faded. The sound of heavy breathing filled their ears.

"Recon, report?" Tyrion asked breathlessly.

When the sound of breathing was their only reply, everyone on the network began to get concerned.

"Mavon! Doc! Report!" Tyrion demanded.

"Felix!" Gabrielle blurted desperately. Tears stung her eyes as she began to fear the worst.

"We're good, chief," Felix's voice finally reported quietly. "One of them got away, moving North West at a heading of about one six zero. They're gonna know we're here."

The relief manifested itself in a flood of tears from Gabrielle's eyes. The sobs burst from her with tidal force and she dropped to the ground.

Her sobs reached out through the night.

"Hey," Felix's voice whispered in her ear. "We're okay, Gabby. We're okay."

"Permission to come in, Chief?" Mavon asked.

"Cut that chatter," Tyrion said dutifully. "Bring it in, guys. Silas and I'll take the next round."

"On our way," Mavon replied. His voice was thick with the weariness that only combat can bring. "E.T.A., twenty minutes."

"We'll have a couple of glasses for you," Tyrion smiled. He disconnected the channel and looked at his partner. The big man nodded.

"Shall we?" His voice rumbled.

"We shall," Tyrion replied.

Tyrion and Silas prepped their gear and headed out to relieve Felix and Mavon.

As the two men jogged out across the plains, they eventually saw the two men, walking toward them. Both men looked bone weary, their uniforms covered in a layer of dust. Mavon's hair was dark with perspiration, and his normally florid complexion was a bit pale.

Felix, on the other hand, just seemed a little less jovial, probably because he hadn't had to run the nearly one kilometer for assistance. He moved stiffly, as if the very act of walking was causing him discomfort.

Tyrion looked the two men up and down. "You two good?"

Both men nodded. Mavon pointed back across the hills to the northwest.

"Single runner headed off in that direction," Mavon reported. He looked back at Tyrion apologetically. "Sorry, boss. I should have got him."

"Can't be helped," Tyrion shrugged. "At least we have an idea where to look for trouble, and we know its coming."

Tyrion looked his two subordinates up and down appraisingly before giving them a nod. "Head on back and grab some chow." He looked at Felix. "You got a lady worrying sick about you." He patted Felix on the shoulder as the two pairs headed off in opposite directions.

The column had resumed moving again, with General Palanthus, Xena, and now, Gabriele and Nicolla near the front.

Gabrielle's eyes strained to pierce the deepening gloom, searching for the returning scouts, her heart still thudding in her chest despite the cessation of hostilities.

Xena looked over at her and smiled understandingly.

"Hey," she offered. "He's okay, you know."

"I know," Gabrielle replied. Then she saw them, emerging from the rising mists, like dark apparitions. They walked forward on heavy feet, their eyes alight in the gloom, still afire from their encounter.

It was as if Gabrielle's heart and soul had jumped from her own body. She dropped from the back of the horse and ran forward, throwing her arms around Felix's neck.

It took a few moments for Felix to realize that she was kissing him.

"Hey there," he smiled when they finally parted. "I told you I was alright."

Mavon raised an eyebrow as they met the rest of the column, then he looked up at Nicolla and his usual wry smile appeared. "How come you never greet me like that?" he asked, nodding in the direction of Gabrielle and Felix.

"That's easy," Nicolla replied, smiling in relief. "I don't like you."

Mavon grinned and shrugged. "Lust has nothing to do with like sweetheart."

Nicolla rolled her eyes towards the heavens. "Give me a break."

Gabrielle was looking at Felix intently, her expression a wild mix of emotions ranging from concern all the way to full blown desire.

"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked quickly. "Do you need anything?"

He laughed. "Right now, I just want to sit down, okay?" Then he winced. "I feel like the back end of an ion storm."

Palanthus looked out into the gloom. "We must decide if we are going to make camp, or continue through the night." He offered.

Xena nodded. "If we set up camp now, chances are we're going to be attacked. One of those enemy scouts managed to get away. He'll undoubtedly report our position. If we set up camp, we won't be resting."

"True," Palanthus agreed. "But we may also use this opportunity to our advantage."

Immediately, Xena knew what the general was suggesting. She smiled and tapped her earpiece.

"Tyrion?" She called. "The general has an idea."

Gatz moved through his camp, watching in disgust as his troops fought amongst themselves over their meals. He was a full head taller than the rest of his men, with dark leathery skin and long, matted hair. His limbs were knotted with powerful muscle and he held his sword, a massive double bladed cleaver in one clawed hand. Yes, these maggots were his, even though they would kill him if he ever let his guard down. That's all these half bred Huna-Ki were good for. Fighting. They were dogs, always looking to fight, even if it was only amongst themselves. His narrow yellow eyes pierced the gloom of the campfires. He had already been required to knock a few heads in, and still, his men, a full five hundred, heavily armed and highly hostile Orcs, were still rowing over their rations.

"Knock that off you dung hill rats!" he ordered in a voice like gravelly thunder. "I'll skewer the lot of you if you don't give me some order here!"

He lashed out with a quick left fist and caved in the side of a passing subordinate, sending him sprawling. "Get those sentries out! No surprises! You'll have fighting a plenty before long, when those cursed Gondor dogs come a poaching!"

Several of the men sluggishly moved to comply.

He growled at their lack of haste, and then quickly sliced the head off one nearby. The body crumpled to the ground in a heap. Those nearest looked down at the corpse hungrily.

"Move it!" Gatz bellowed, striding forward and shoving errant Orcs out of his path.

Red and yellow eyes followed the leader as he passed by and then at least a dozen of the other Orcs fell on the corpse in a rending, brawling feeding frenzy.

The sentries moved more quickly, setting up their perimeter, just beyond the watch fires, their hungry eyes peering expectantly out across the plains.

Gatz continued his rounds, her shoving, there punching or kicking, keeping his men in order.

A harsh voice cried out from one side of the camp.

"A scout! One of your scouts returns!"

Gatz wheeled and shoved his way through a group of Orcs, cursing and kicking until he reached the perimeter.

He reached the sentry as the long, furry faced scout lumbered up, his tongue lolling out from exhaustion.

"White skins!" he blurted. "Gondor White Skins moving into Rohan, making for Edoras!"

"How many?" Gatz bellowed, eyeing the dog like scout distastefully.

The scouts oversized nostrils flared as it took in breath. He did not answer at once.

"Well?" Gatz ordered. "How many?"

"I don't know," The scout finally admitted. "They had a scouting party out too, and we encountered them."

"Are they dead?" Gatz pressed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Are they all dead?"

The scout nodded nervously. "All dead!"

"And the rest of Zagg's men?" Gatz continued, referring to the scouts' commander.

The scout's eyes narrowed. "They attacked us! Got the jump on us, they did!"

"And you managed to slink away," Gatz growled. "Abandoning your company so you could creep back here and hide behind us! Cowards, the lot of you, cursed snufflers…you're not even worth the shot!"

Now it was the scouts turn to get defensive. "You wouldn't find half of your targets if it weren't for us! We're the ones that hunt them down for you and come back, telling you where to point your swords, you dull witted brutes! You'd be wandering in circles if it wasn't for us!"

"Then where are the Gondor scum!" Gatz demanded.

The scout flung a furry arm back the way he had come. "South, and a little east, if you hurry, you might even be able to find them, you blind pounder! But you better be careful! Isengard doesn't like poachers on its new land! If you don't do something quick, it might be a chop for Gatz, and someone with brains might get your job!"

Quick as lightning, Gatz grabbed the smaller scout by the scruff of the neck, causing him to yelp in pain, and flung him towards the general direction of the camp.

"Get out of my sight, dog!" He fixed his yellow eyes on the shadowy horizon, contemplating his next move.

"Break camp!" he bellowed. "Make ready to march!"

This order brought another wave of complaints and curses. With Orcs there was never anything that could be considered agreement.

"Break camp you lazy swine!" Gatz bellowed again. "You lot have been whining about lack of killing, well now there'll be killing aplenty! Move it, or I'll bleed you here myself!"

In spite of their lack of organization, and their propensity to complain about everything, Orcs do move very quickly. The camp was broken in less than an hour, and the company ran off into the gloom, vanishing with howls and yammers into the night.

They came over the rolling hills, their spear points and swords shimmering like bloody silver in the moonlight. The mist roiled away from them in waives as their iron shod shoes pounded into the earth.

The passed a small glade of trees, several of the men on the outer rank, hacking and slashing at the foliage out of sheer spite, and continued.

As they vanished into the gloom, two figures slowly emerged from concealment within the deeper brush.

Tyrion wrinkled is nose at the stench the passing column left in its wake. He tapped his earpiece.

"Recon to base," he whispered. "They're coming. Looks like about six hundred hostiles heading your way."

Xena's voice answered calmly. "Okay, Tyrion. Thanks."

Silas stepped up next to Tyrion, his eyes following the beaten trail that led into the shadows.

"Now those were some ugly sons of bitches," He grumbled.

Tyrion nodded and pointed to the east. "Lets double time it. We need to circle around fast if we're going to get to camp before the party starts."

Mavon found Felix seated on the back of one of their supply wagons.

"Hey," he greeted. "Looks like we're gonna have company. About six hundred of those ugly," He stopped when he saw Felix's TAC vest lying beside him. He heard the whine of the small, tissue regenerator, and saw the slightly oily hue of blood on Felix's left side.

"One of them tagged you?" Mavon asked, his eyebrow rising.

Felix winced as he treated his wound. "Just a scratch is all. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, well, the scratch could have been poisoned you know," Mavon countered. "These boys poison the edges of their weapons."

Felix waved a dismissive hand. "The nano boosters we took will take care of that. I'm not worried."

He finished treating the wound, wincing as the skin was rebonded.

Mavon watched his expression and then looked more closely at the injury.

"That ain't no scratch you idiot," he said in a hiss. "That's a full blown stab! The tissue regenerator will only seal the outside."

Felix grabbed Mavon's arm.

"I'm good," he said quickly. His eyes locked on Mavon's sternly. "I'm good."

Mavon returned his stare. "You're full of shit, but okay." He held up a finger. "But I'm now primary, and you're backup. Don't need you dropping on the field because 'you're good'. Got it?"

Felix nodded. "Got it. And not a word to Gabrielle or Xena!"

"Word about what?" Mavon replied. "You just watch yourself."

Felix nodded and watched as Mavon moved off towards the others. He was grateful when he saw his partner head of Nicolla and Gabrielle who were apparently on their way to check up on him as well.

He sighed, relaying the events in his mind. He had taken a position on the crest of a small rise, and watched as Mavon, with all pretense at stealth abandoned, had come tearing across the field with a full thirty of the brutes in pursuit.

Several well placed shots had widened the gap that between the pursuers and the pursued, but only for a moment. Then the Orcs had been on top of them, and together, they had turned and opened up on them. The enemy fell in clusters of bodies, but the onslaught had not dissuaded the attackers, and for a few brief, desperate moments, they were hand to hand.

A vicious spin and he had rammed the stock of his rifle into the skull of one of the creatures, sending it sprawling. Then he had turned and blasted a second. That had been when he felt the blade in his side. Just a flesh wound, really. Along the profile of his abdomen, below the ribs. The attack hadn't struck anything vital, but it had hurt like hell. He wheeled back, and fired a single shot at point blank range, incinerating the brutish face of his attacker, and then fell back with Mavon as he reloaded.

From that point, it had been the adrenaline that had kept him on his feet.

There had still been ten of the beasts closing on them, and his clip had been drained.

Another of the creatures was running away from the scene, ostensibly to report their position. Felix's last shot had gone wide, and Mavon hadn't been able to bring the errant target down. Mavon's clip had to be close to empty as well. With no time to reload, he had yanked a grenade from his vest and thrown it into the midst of the enemy, too close to them. The blasts lethal force had been absorbed by the bodies of their attackers…mostly.

When his vision returned, he and Mavon were laying several yards further away from the explosion point, with Tyrion and Gabrielle's voices blaring through the earpiece over the incessant ringing that the blast had produced.

Felix started as he felt a twinge of pain in his side. His thoughts snapping back to the moment. He looked about, seeing men preparing for battle.

"No time to rest yet," he thought to himself as he got to his feet. "Work now, collapse later."

He paused as he caught a subtle hint of movement out of the corner of his eye. A soft flutter of something golden. He barely saw the figure as it vanished amidst a crowd of soldiers, unheeded by them as they marched to join up with the rest of their assigned group.

He blinked, and then took a deep, painful breath.

"Later." He said aloud, reaffixing his gear to his body.

Xena and Palanthus sat astride their mounts, surveying the preparations. Xena could feel the keen eyes of the man boring into her back. She turned to face him.

Palanthus smiled grimly. "I have been told that you are a great warrior in your kingdom."

Xena smiled a little coldly. "I can hold my own."

"I have no doubt," Palanthus replied with a wry smile. "And yet, I would admit to a desire to see that skill proved."

Xena's cool expression didn't change. "I don't think we have too long to wait for that."

"Indeed," Palanthus nodded. "I have given my Lieutenant, Caran, command over the central front, and placed the execution of our deception in his capable hands. I, myself shall lead the assault from the eastern flank with four hundred on horse, and I would ask that you take three hundred of our men to the west and command the Cavalry charge from that direction."

Xena looked at him in mild surprise.

Palanthus seemed to anticipate the unspoken question. "You have the favor of our King, and so, the trust of our men."

She was momentarily torn. On one side, the desire to take command was very seductive and yet, the last time she had agreed to something like this, she had left Gabrielle alone, with disastrous results. A part of her feared a repeat of something similar, but this was a time for quick decisions. Gabrielle wasn't alone. She was coupled with Nicolla, a woman that Xena was fast coming to like and even trust. One thing that the fiery red haired woman had said was that she would keep an eye on her best friend, and she knew from past experience that Tyrion and his people never made a promise they weren't willing, or able, to keep.

She nodded.

"Your men are assembled at the head of the column," Palanthus nodded. "Take the kings banner and move two leagues west before turning north and returning in time to surprise them on their right. If all is timed correctly, we will have them encircled before they make their first assault upon Caran's men in the camp."

She relayed her new task to Tyrion, who agreed to link up with her detachment before their charge.

"Mave, Doc," he went on. "Go with the General. Nicky, Gabs, stay with Lieutenant Caran. Find a place to keep a lookout and com us when you see them coming."

"You got it, Master Chief," Mavon's voice replied with easy calm.

"Understood, Tyrion," Nicolla also responded.

As Xena moved to take the lead of her portion of the men, she found Gabrielle and Nicolla heading back towards the center of the camp.

Xena dropped to the ground in front of the two other women.

"You okay?" Gabrielle asked, smiling.

Xena nodded, seeing the old confidence in her eyes. "Just be careful."

"I'll keep her out of trouble," Nicolla offered with an encouraging smile. "You just focus on what you have to do."

Xena climbed back aboard her horse and looked down at them. "Just stay low," she said to Gabrielle.

"You be careful," Gabrielle countered.

"About ninety minutes to game time, people," Tyrion's voice crackled in their ears.

Xena nodded and spurred her horse to the detachment awaiting her.

"Move out!" she barked in a loud, clear voice.

Nicolla watched the contingent separate from the main group, vanishing into the murky night. Looking back, she saw Felix and Mavon moving off with the second detachment.

When she looked back at Gabrielle, she found the young bard staring off in the direction that her friend had gone.

Nicolla could feel the longing desire that Gabrielle had. The wish to go with her friend into the unknown.

"She'll be alright, Gabs," Nicolla offered. "You'll see."

"I know," Gabrielle replied. "I just worry about her."

"Everything you've been through," Nicolla thought appreciatively. "And you're worried about her?"

She smiled and patted Gabrielle on the shoulder reassuringly. "Come on. We got a few things to do."

Gabrielle nodded, and the two women went to their appointed tasks.

Less than an hour later, Nicolla and Gabrielle were concealed in one of the supply wagons. Their muscles ached and their hair was damp from perspiration, but they had managed to mount and secure the heavy TR-40 to the wagon, concealing it beneath a large tarp. The weapon was about five and a half feet in length, dull gray, with thick sturdy legs designed to absorb recoil. The legs had been bolted to the wooden bed of the wagon, and parked towards the rear of the encampment.

All about them, Caran's detachment put on the façade of setting up camp for the evening, but for every one man going about those labors, there was another standing nearby with weapons in their hands and an eye on the northern field.

"Scout positions," Tyrion's voice ordered. "We have movement."

"Confirmed, Boss," Felix replied. "Three, do you have visual yet?"

Nicolla and Gabrielle both raised the observer glasses to their eyes, switching to thermal view. They could see the cluster of heat signatures appearing over the distant rise.

"We have them," Nicolla reported. "Seven Hundred yards and closing slow and steady. Looks like they're trying to sneak their way into striking distance before they charge."

Gabrielle leaned over the wagon and spoke quickly to Lieutenant Caran, a lean man with dark hair and eyes, and sharp, handsome features.

He raised his eyebrows in surprise. "The Orc does not usually employ such tactics. They tend to be more vicious and less deliberate."

"Well," Nicolla quipped. "Guess what."

Quickly, Caran sent messages to his men to prepare for combat. Weapons were exchanged and men readied themselves for the coming battle.

"Two," Tyrion's voice echoed in their ears. "Bring your contingent forward. Get ready to drop the hammer."

"Confirmed."

"Three," Tyrion went on. "Do you have the welcoming gift ready?"

Nicolla smiled and went to the firing controls at the rear of the weapon, setting her shoulders against the braces. She hit the switch and primed the cannon. She had a dark, almost feral grin of anticipation on her face as she felt the weapon hum beneath her fingertips.

"Wrapped and ready to deliver, honey."

Gabrielle smiled at that, which surprised her. She had a decent understanding of what the massive cannon behind her would do to the formation of creatures sneaking towards them, and yet, she was detached in a way that was surprising. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was also looking forward to the coming engagement.

Nicolla looked through the ranging sight in the direction she would fire.

"What do you have Gabby?" she asked, her fingers resting gently on the fire control.

Gabrielle blinked and then raised the glasses to her eyes.

"Um," she said as she watched the lead cluster of images. The scrolling numbers at the top of the display changed as she settled on each target. She felt her own smile creeping across her lips. Again, something inside her recoiled at the sensation, but the moment was surrounding her with its powerful allure.

"Four hundred yards," she reported.

"Wait for it," Tyrion said quietly. "When they reach three hundred, send them our welcoming gift."

Nicolla adjusted the arc of her weapon and nodded. "Got it."

"Three hundred and fifty yards," Gabrielle reported. She could see individual features now, through her glasses. Under thermal imaging they looked even more grotesque and demonic than she remembered.

"Are you boys in for a surprise," she thought to herself. She frowned at that. Where was this newfound anticipation coming from? It was so unlike her.

"Three hundred and twenty," she reported dutifully. She jumped a bit when the firing mechanism locked into place. The cannon was live, primed and ready to fire.

The attackers were in the shallow valley with the encampment now, moving with agonizingly slow deliberation, trying to hold onto the element of surprise as long as they could before committing. At the front of the formation was a creature larger and more powerfully built than the rest, obviously the leader, advancing in a low crouch, his arms out to his sides, eyes fixed ahead at the small twinkling campfires before him.

Suddenly, his inhuman eyes seemed to fix upon her. Gabrielle's breath caught as those eyes locked onto hers.

He couldn't possibly have seen her! Perhaps it had seen a glint of reflection from the firelight upon the glasses, but at that distance?

"Uh oh," she muttered. Even as she said it, the leader swept his hands forward and the silent attackers surged forward with sudden silent speed.

"Oh Gods!" she exclaimed. "They saw me!"

"Fire!" Tyrion ordered.

Nicolla raised the barrel a couple of degrees and squeezed the triggers. There was a brilliant pale blue flash and a loud WHUMP as the cannon discharged. The bolt sizzled through the air towards its target, but without the benefit of enhanced imaging, she was essentially firing blind. The blast impacted to the rear of the formation, engulfing a few unlucky attackers at the rear of the formation. Hoarse cries erupted from the field as the attackers gave up on stealth and charged forward in a shadowy mass, weapons glinting in the moonlight.

"Hit them again!" Tyrion barked.

The cannon thudded again, and this time more enemies flew through the air.

"Abandon the post!" Tyrion ordered.

At the same time, Palanthus and Xena ordered their charge. The two additional groups – nearly seven hundred on horse and on foot - came thundering over the shallow rises towards the enemy from opposite sides.

Nicolla grabbed Gabrielle by the shoulder and the two of them dropped from the wagon, heading away from the cannon and towards Lieutenant Caran's station.

Gatz roared in fury. He had lost a good chunk of his men in the two explosions, and now his men were being struck from three sides. He knew instantly that the weasel of a scout had lied to him. In the same moment, he also knew that he was doomed.

"Form up, you maggots!" he bellowed. "Get ready to fight!"

The contingent from the camp was charging on foot, while the other two on either flank were mounted and heading towards him.

"Spread out!" he bellowed. "Spread out and charge!"

The Orc company split into three roughly equal groups, each charging their attackers with bloodthirsty zeal.

While the contest was decided before they had engaged, the battle was as fierce as it was short.

Mavon and Felix fired into the closing ranks of the enemy before they were finally forced to sling their rifles and draw the swords given to them in Gondor. The silver blades flashed and metal clanged as they rode over their enemy, driving through them towards Xena's group.

Felix felt his horse suddenly knocked from beneath him. He hit the ground hard, and the pain in his side flashed white hot through his body.

His sword bounced from his numbed fingers. He felt something large descend upon him, and the stench of the fur on the beast told him that he had landed upon one of the enemy. He rolled off the body, only to feel claw like fingers grasp his throat.

"No fucking way!" He bellowed, pummeling the head with his fists. He finally dislodged his opponent, only to have the beast leap back and then charge forward, impacting his wounded side again. The pain was agonizing, and he felt something bubble in his belly as the two went down a second time.

Off to one side, he thought he saw the General's horse, pulled down into a sea of shadow, and then he was spun around again and dropped to the earth. The creature slavered and roared, smelling blood. A fist blasted his ribs.

He fumbled for his pistol, managed to draw it up and plant it against the head of his attacker. With a violent twist that hurt more than any blow he had received, he squeezed the trigger. The head of his enemy exploded in a fount of gore as he rolled free of the corpse.

"Mave!" Felix called in a choked voice. He staggered to his feet, felt something wet pop from his mouth, fell backwards a few steps, staggered up again and fell again as he backed away, his pistol fired at anything that wasn't human. "Mave!"

A hand grasped his shoulder, hauling him up. He spun and found Mavon staring back at him in alarm.

Then a shadow moved and Felix pulled Mavon aside as he fired. The Orc fell to the ground at their feet.

Felix drew Mavon's pistol and the two stood back to back, fending off the vicious assault.

"Work now," Felix thought over and over. He forced his body to move in spite of the pain. "Collapse later."

Nicolla and Gabrielle stayed near Lieutenant Caran for as long as they could, Gabrielle's staff moved like something alive, striking down anything that came too close.

Beside her, Nicolla moved like a cat, her sword whistling through the air with quick, precise strokes, hewing down the enemy.

A group of twelve brutes charged their position. Nicolla spun around, driving her blade through the chest of one, and wheeled her rifle in one hand, spraying bolts at the cluster of figures. In spite of this ferocious counter attack, the remnants of the contingent bowled through them. Nicolla went down in a cry cut off by her impact to the ground.

Gabrielle gripped her staff at one end and spun it over her head, clearing an area eight feet in all directions before she let the weapon sail off into the darkness and grabbed the unconscious girl, dragging her beneath a nearby wagon and out of harms way.

"Nicky's down! Nicky's down!" she cried in a panic.

Silas roared like a bear as he scooped up the corpse of his latest kill and flung it into another cluster of attackers.

Then he heard Gabrielle's panicked voice in his ears and something more horrible than fury burst from him. He became a man possessed, his eyes flashing in the moonlight as he moved from foe to foe, stabbing, grappling, breaking anything in his path. The weapons of his foes seemed not to touch him. Enemies fled before his wrath as he fought his way towards the two stricken women.

At the same moment, a furious shriek erupted from nearby as Xena's horse, in full charge ran down several attackers before being tripped.

She leapt from the beast, landing on her feet, her sword ringing. Before her was the biggest brute of the lot, obviously the leader. The memory of her recent injury was fresh in her mind, and she heard Gabrielle's plea in her ear.

The Orc raised a large weapon that reminded Xena of a massive cleaver, and swung it at her throat. Xena spun away, ducking under the blow, only to have her return attack deflected by the beasts' armored bracer.

Then the forearm crashed into the side of her face, sending her staggering back into another pair of duelist. That Orc had its victim on the ground, spear raised to run the man through. Xena reacted, slicing the head from the body in a vicious continuation of her stumble before spinning back to face her attacker again.

The man she had just saved leapt to his feet and feinted, drawing the brute's next attack before leaping clear.

Xena seized the moment and stabbed the beast through the throat. She growled with feral glee as she saw the shock and pain in the inhuman features. Clawed hands gripped her own neck with ineffectual strength as the enemy sank to the ground at her feet.

She cleared the weapon and hacked her way towards the others, all while calling Gabrielle's name.

Then, it was suddenly over. The field was littered with the dead and dying. The ground shone in the pale light.

Tyrion spied four figures making a dash for safety. He dropped his sword, raised his rifle, and fired until all were down, then he lowered his weapon and looked about him in surprise.

"Check! Check! Check!" Tyrion ordered.

"Clear!" Mavon's voice rang out.

"Clear!" Silas thundered nearby.

"Clear," Felix said over the coms.

Nicolla groaned.

"She's okay," Gabrielle called. "We're okay."

Xena let her sword fall to the ground as she found Gabrielle and Nicolla emerging from their cover beneath the wagon. She wrapped her arms around Gabrielle and held her tightly.

"Xena!" Tyrion's voice called.

"I'm okay," Xena replied, relief flooding through her voice. "We're okay."

Gabrielle smiled, clutching Xena in relief. Then she saw Felix, walking as if in a daze amidst the carnage.

Xena turned and saw him as well.

The trio went quickly to his side. Gabrielle stopped short when she saw the blood masking his chin.

"Felix!" she cried.

The young man looked at her with surprising calm, and he smiled.

"Now," he whispered. "I can collapse."

Then he staggered once and pitched forward.

Xena caught him, helping to lay him down on the ground.

Nicolla tapped her earpiece.

"Man down!" she called. "Man down!"

"Who?" Felix asked, looking up at the sky in mild confusion. "Who'd we lose?"

Gabrielle was cradling his head her lap.

"Just be still," Xena said urgently.

Suddenly the enormous shadow of Silas loomed over them.

"Hey big boss," Felix grinned. "You made it."

"We need to get him help, now," Xena ordered.

Silas knelt down and scooped the injured man up in his arms. The moved quickly towards one of the undamaged tents.

"Boss!" Silas bellowed. "Now!"

Tyrion came dashing from the field. He stopped short when he saw Felix in Silas's arms.

"Get me some lights!" he ordered as he grabbed Felix's pack and fished out the medical kit. They all rushed into the nearby tent. "And get him on the table!"

Mavon swept his weapon across a nearby table, clearing it as Silas laid him down.

"Sorry, Boss," Felix said as Tyrion knelt down over him. "I guess I got a little sloppy."

Silas, Nicolla, Mavon and Tyrion all pulled their portable lights free and held them up over the table so Tyrion could see.

Tyrion saw the blood shimmering on the left side of Felix's TAC vest and quickly stripped it from his body before cutting the shirt away.

There, beneath the damp fabric, he could instantly make out the recently treated injury to his side.

"Nicky, Mavon," Tyrion said as he worked. "Check in with the General. Find out how badly we've been hurt."

"But," Mavon began.

"Move it!" Silas bellowed.

The two withdrew, handing their laps to Xena.

"You are one crazy son of a bitch, Felix," Tyrion said as he worked. "You know that?"

"I've been told," Felix replied dreamily. Then he winced as Tyrion set the laser scalpel against his wound.

The freshly mended flesh separated easily and blood, mixed with another fluid began leaking out immediately.

"How's that?" Tyrion asked.

"Hurts like hell, Chief," Felix replied. Even as he said it, he could feel the pain lessening in his side.

"Getting better though," he finished.

"I'll bet, you little shit," Tyrion chided him. "That's gastric fluid, you nitwit! What were you trying to prove?"

"Didn't want you to worry," Felix replied, wincing as he looked up.

Gabrielle grabbed a cloth and began wiping the blood from his face.

"If you're going to be going steady with our friend here," Tyrion said, indicating the nervous bard. "Then I suggest you get your head out of your ass, got it?" Felix winced again as Tyrion inserted an instrument into the wound, staring through a small optical reader. "There you are, you bitch," he said aloud. "Got yourself shanked eh?"

Felix nodded. "Just a scratch."

"Bullshit," Tyrion replied as he withdrew the instrument and held up a triangular piece of metal. It was undoubtedly the point of the knife that had wounded him. "You got knifed. Next time, treat it properly by coming to me."

Gabrielle leaned down, resting her forehead against his as Tyrion went back in and repaired the damage. When he finished, he cleaned the wound and left it open.

"This needs to drain for a bit," He said as he placed a pad over the wound. "Don't you fucking move, got it?"

"Chief?" Mavon's voice suddenly came over the coms.

Tyrion hit the button. "Go."

"Uh, I think we have a problem."

"What?" Tyrion asked.

"Well," Mavon sighed. "I found General Palanthus. He's dead, along with the captain he had with him."

Nicolla stood looking down at the ground before her, her heart heavy.

"Alright," Tyrion's voice replied. "Find Lieutenant Caran. He's the boss now."

She tapped her com, shaking her head.

"I'm afraid not, Tyrion," she said, looking down at the hacked remains of the body before her. "Caran's dead too."

Tyrion paused, looking at the expectant faces staring back at him.

"Okay," he said after a moment. "Field assessment. I need to know who and what we lost, what we got, casualties, the works, and most importantly, find out who the hell is in charge now."

"On it," Mavon replied.

Tyrion looked at Silas and Xena. "Let's do what we can to help with the wounded." Then he turned to Gabrielle. "Stay with Felix. Make sure he stays put."

Gabrielle nodded.

"We'll meet back here after the cleanup." He tapped his coms again. "Nicky. Find Hallas. We're going to need his input."

33


	6. Chapter 6

*** See: Xena and the Terror of Andross Isle**

**Chapter 6**

"A soldier who believes completely in his superiority is doomed…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

It was several hours before they all assembled together, back in the makeshift tent that served as their command.

Felix still lay on the table, with an insistent Gabrielle keeping him put, as she had promised.

Silas sat down heavily, exhausted from helping move wounded in and out of the makeshift triage that Xena had established. Those uninvolved in the recovery of wounded were sent out to tend to the fallen. The Orc corpses were piled up and burned some distance away from the camp, while the fallen men of Gondor were laid to rest. A large mound was erected over them, surrounded by a circle of spears.

Tyrion and Xena both entered, blood still covering parts of their arms, while Nicolla and Mavon looked grim faced and haggard. The sun was rising hot in eastern sky before they could take any rest.

The final tally was grim. Over two hundred men of Gondor had fallen in the battle and nearly twice that were injured and unable to fight. On top of that, the attack had eliminated nearly the entire command staff of the expedition, with the exception of one captain, who was too wounded to be of any assistance.

Tyrion scrolled through the information on his data pad and sighed.

"This is not good," he muttered as Hallas entered the tent. He looked at the weary faces around him. "Well, we need to figure out our next move, and fast."

"We must still reach Edoras, and aid my people," Hallas said, fearing that the losses might indicate the necessity of a withdrawal. "Whatever the outcome of this encounter, that should remain foremost."

"Question is," Mavon said. "Who do we put in charge? We can't go on without a viable chain of command." He looked at Hallas,

The Rohan soldier shook his head. "I lack the experience. Besides, it would not be permitted for me to assume command of the King's men in any event."

His eyes turned to Tyrion. "I have heard the men speaking. Many of them are hoping that you might take command. You hold the favor of the king, and you and your people have proven yourselves worthy in the recent battle."

"You are the senior most officer, Tyrion," Nicolla added.

Tyrion shook his head. "My experience is no good to you, Hallas. My style of combat and your style of combat are two totally different worlds, literally. I would place more lives in jeopardy if I took overall command." His eyes turned to Xena.

"What do you say, Xe?" he asked. "You want it?"

Xena looked about the room in mild surprise. An eagerness buried somewhere within her suddenly flared back to life.

She nodded.

"Do you think the men would object?" Tyrion asked Hallas.

Hallas considered for a moment, his hand stroking his beard. "We can put it to them?"

"No," Felix said in a raspy voice. "This isn't a democracy."

The wounded medic struggled to move and was immediately held in check, yet again, by Gabrielle.

"Funny you should bring that up, Doc," Silas mused.

"Hey!" Tyrion said sternly. "Not now, Si."

"Sorry, Boss," Silas replied.

"Alright," Tyrion said, straightening up. "It has been suggested that I take command, and since that seems to be the popular course, then my first Command is this: Attention on deck!"

With the exception of Felix, the members of Tyrion's team stood at attention, including Tyrion himself.

Xena, Gabrielle and Hallas also rose.

"I hereby relinquish my command of this unit to you, Xena," Tyrion stated. "Congratulations, Ma'am."

Four hands shot up in rigid salute, eyes trained on the Warrior Princess.

"Your orders?" Tyrion finished.

"Thank you," Xena said. She gave a nod and the four soldiers stood at ease.

"Alright," Xena turned to Hallas. "I want you as my liaison between our forces and those of your king."

"Yes, Mistress," Hallas gave a curt nod.

Xena's entire demeanor seemed to change, and she instantly began to exude a confidence that she had not shown for some time. She glanced about the room at the others.

"Tyrion," she went on, feeling the cloak of command fitting comfortably upon her shoulders again. "Continue scouting ahead, as before. Keep me updated on the hour."

"Yes Ma'am," Tyrion nodded. He looked over at the big man sitting near the table. "Silas, you're with me."

Xena turned to Nicolla and Gabrielle. "I need you two to continue to help with the wounded. Get them ready to travel."

"Travel?" Gabrielle asked.

"Gabrielle," Xena continued. "I want two hundred uninjured men to escort the wounded back to Minas Tirith."

Gabrielle nodded in understanding. "Okay."

Then Xena turned to Mavon. "Start breaking camp. Take only what we need. We're going to move straight through until we reach Edoras."

Mavon nodded and a smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. "We planning on a fast march?"

"We need to get there and still have strength to fight," Xena replied. "We'll find the balance on the way."

"Yes Ma'am," Mavon nodded, moving towards the exit.

"What about me?" Felix asked, lifting his head from the table.

Xena raised an eyebrow. "You? You're going with the wounded."

"The hell I am!" Felix countered. "Ma'am." He finished quickly.

Xena stepped over to the table and leaned down, looking him in the eye.

Gabrielle looked back and forth between the two, her expression uncertain.

"You're injured," Xena said. "Worse than you would have been if you hadn't decided to play hero. You need to rest and heal."

"Fuck rest," Felix growled. "And I'm gonna heal up faster than any of these other bozos, that's for sure!"

Xena smiled and there was an iciness to it that surprised Felix. "You said it yourself. There are rules regarding your people and missions. When the mission is over, or if something goes wrong, you take so much time and so many days to get things straight."

"This mission is far from over," Felix said angrily. "And you're going to need me."

"I don't need a stubborn brat slowing down the whole column," Xena replied with calm pragmatism.

"I won't slow you down!" Felix started.

"And I don't need Gabrielle mourning the loss of another friend," Xena finished, cutting him off.

Felix matched her gaze. There was a fierce fire burning in them now, filled with defiance.

"I will be on my feet and ready to go by the time they get here to break this tent down," he said evenly. "And if I have to drive one of the supply wagons, I'm still going with you."

Xena merely stood up and fixed him with a calm stare. Then she looked over at Gabrielle and gave her an understanding nod. "Be ready to move him out with the wounded." She turned and strode out of the tent.

Felix watched her depart, feeling a mixture of anger and regret knotting in his gut. He looked around at Gabrielle's concerned expression and sighed, feeling the open wound throbbing.

Gabrielle only offered a shrug as she moved towards the exit. "I'll be back in a bit."

Felix nodded and let his head fall back on the table, staring at the ceiling. As his eyes sought inspiration, his mind worked furiously. There had to be a way to avoid being shipped out like a sack of bad rations. His eyes fell on the medical kit, still resting at the foot of the table.

Ignoring the reawakened fire that his movement awoke, He struggled up and grasped the small satchel.

Xena stepped out into the early morning sun and headed of to begin the rounds.

"You enjoyed that," a voice said smoothly behind her. She paused and turned back to face Mavon, leaning against one of the wagons. He was absently cleaning some of the dirt beneath his fingernails with his combat knife.

"Didn't I give you something to do?" Xena asked. She locked her icy gaze on him.

"Knocking him back down a few notches," Mavon went on as if he hadn't heard her question. "Making sure that he, along with everyone else in this monkey outfit knows who the boss is. Don't get me wrong, I think he deserved it. He can be one arrogant son of a bitch. Sometimes, I think he might even have me beat."

He smiled and blew some of the dirt off his fingers. "But he is right about one thing. You still need him."

"I do?" Xena arched an eyebrow.

Mavon pushed himself off the wagon and strolled towards her.

"You can't afford to lose a fire team, ma'am" he said. "Not at this point. And I don't think you want to put Gabrielle on the front line, do you? If Felix is out, then I'm out too, because he's my primary. The teams are put together for a reason, so the pairs learn each others habits and reactions. You can't pair me with Nicky, for instance, without risking her life and mine, and you don't want Nicky on the front line with Gabs as her backup. So that means Felix has to stay in the soup." He smirked as he strolled past her. "Just figured you should know."

Xena caught his arm. "Are all of you this cocky?"

Mavon smiled. "Nope. Just Doc and me. That's why they put us together."

Mavon looked down at the fingers wrapped around his bicep and then back into her fierce gaze.

"You mind?" he asked calmly.

Xena released her hold on his arm and let him continue on his way.

Gabrielle made the arrangements to provide escort for the wounded. Once that was accomplished, she headed back towards the tent and found Nicolla sitting on the back of one of the supply wagons, rubbing the back of her head and neck.

"Are you okay?" She asked.

The red haired woman nodded, wincing slightly. "Just a headache."

"Need anything?" Gabrielle offered.

Nicolla smiled. "A drink would be nice?"

Gabrielle smiled in return.

"Thanks," Nicolla said suddenly.

"For what?"

"For pulling me out of that mess," Nicolla replied. "If you hadn't, I might have ended up like Caran."

Gabrielle shrugged the compliment away. She offered a smile and then went in search of Xena.

A little over an hour later, Xena, Tyrion, Mavon, and Silas entered the tent, followed by four other guards, tasked with dismantling the shelter.

The first thing they saw was Felix, on his feet, leaning against the table, holding a regenerating pack against his injury and wrapping a length of bandage around his midsection to hold it in place.

He looked up and quickly finished his ministrations. Then he stood up, wincing in pain. He was still pale and he moved stiffly, but his eyes blazed.

"Reporting for duty, Ma'am," he said in a tight voice.

"Doc," Tyrion began.

"You still need me, Chief!" Felix cut him off.

He paused as Nicolla and Gabrielle entered. Gabrielle looked at him with a mixture of wonder and concern.

"You can barely stand," Xena said critically.

Felix fixed her with a steady gaze.

"A wagon is driven from the seated position, Ma'am."

The others fixed him with dubious looks, while Mavon simply let his knowing smirk reassert itself.

"Don't be stupid, Felix," Tyrion cautioned.

There was sudden hint of desperation in Felix's expression. "Don't turn me loose, Chief. I can do this!"

Tyrion looked at the others and then his eyes settled on Xena.

He turned towards the exit and offered a small shrug. "Your call."

It all came down to risks. Which ones were acceptable and which ones weren't. If she kept to her original decision, and sent Felix away with the wounded, she would lose a valuable asset. She would be forced to place her best friend in more threatening situations, and increasing the chances of Gabrielle being harmed. At the same time, if she placed this wounded man in the front lines, the chances of him being harmed or killed were also high. If the feelings between this man and Gabrielle were blossoming into the emotional bonds that they appeared to be, how would her decision affect her relationship with Gabrielle, if, Gods forbid, something did happen to Felix? How would she feel if something happened to Gabrielle because she chose a more prudent course and sent Felix away? It was the dilemma of every commanding officer in an army. Which potential sacrifices are acceptable?

Her icy gaze stayed fixed on the wounded man for a long moment.

"If I see you drop behind, even for a moment," she hissed. "I'll leave you behind. Understood?"

Felix almost wilted with relief. "Yes Ma'am."

Once the troop was on the move, Xena pushed them as hard as she dared. The column moved with haste through the rolling plains, covering the miles to Edoras as the fire of the sunrise began smoldering in the east.

They paused only once, long enough to refresh the horses and take a quick mea. Then they were off again.

Silas and Tyrion moved ahead of the army, keeping their distance as they scouted the path ahead. They met no resistance and found no sign of the enemy.

After one particularly long jog, Silas and Tyrion came to a rise in the plains and looked down across the endless sea of gold, waving in the wind.

"You know," Silas puffed. "I'd give my left nut for a recon sled right now."

Tyrion smiled as he took a few deep breaths. "You're getting old, Si. You're out of shape."

"Piss off!" Silas smiled. His dark eyes scanned the horizon, and then his expression sobered.

He pointed with one meaty hand towards the horizon. In the distance, he could make out the thin wisps of dark smoke rising from the distant fields.

"That's never a good sign," he nodded.

Tyrion took his hand away from his ear piece and then he touched the switch again.

"Recon to base," he said dutifully. "We have smoke, approximately three kliks west of our present position. Looks like there's an engagement in progress."

Xena's voice rang in both their ears. "Scout out the area and let me know."

"Confirmed," Tyrion replied. He looked over at his big companion and motioned for them to continue. The two soldiers resumed their brisk jog through the tall grasses, foraging across the low boggy area in the center of the shallow valley and then climbing quickly up the opposite side before the scene came into view.

They dropped to the ground, concealing themselves in the tall grasses and looked out at the next valley.

"I'll be god damned," He muttered as he drew his glasses and held them to his eyes.

Silas also removed a pair of observation glasses and began panning them around the scene.

Atop a large outcropping of rocky ground lay the city of Edoras. Smoke belched from several of the wooden buildings in thick black plumes as men within the walls ran back and forth attempting to quench the flames with buckets of water. At the same time, others ran back and forth along the walls, firing arrows and throwing spears at the cluster of enemies swarming below like angry ants.

The orcs were pressing an attack against the wooden walls of the city, and a group of them stood before the main gates, heaving a massive ram against the timbers in an attempt to breach the city.

There were hundreds of them hacking and slashing in a frenzy of rage. Instantly, Tyrion knew that it was only a matter of time before these monsters would gain access to the city. His finger tapped his coms unit.

"Xena," he called. "We have the city in sight. It is currently under assault, I repeat, the city is under assault!"

He lowered his glasses.

"Give me your AS," he said quickly as he unslung his sniper rifle and detached the scope.

Silas complied and then resumed watching through the glasses.

"Twenty seven hundred meters, Chief," he said as he surmised Tyrion's plan. "That's a helluva shot."

Tyrion unclipped his pack and set it on the ground before him. Then he quickly attached the scope to the massive weapon and sighted the cluster of figures operating the ram on the gate.

"We're moving up!" he heard Xena reply.

Tyrion brought the cross hairs of the weapon to bear on one of the orcs near the gate.

"Firing," he said.

The weapon thudded once, and one of the creatures holding the ram bounced forward and fell to the ground.

"One down," he said, sighting a second and firing again. "Two down."

"Nice shooting," Silas praised as he watched.

Four more orcs fell away from the ram and the instrument dropped to the ground.

Undaunted, more orcs surged forward and took up the weapon, resuming their assault on the gate.

Tyrion cursed. "Stubborn little beggars." He fired again in rapid succession.

Again the creatures on the ram began to fall, and once again, more bolted forward to take their place.

Beneath them, they could feel the tremble in the ground indicating Xena and her army coming up behind them.

"Enough of this shit," Tyrion growled, switching the weapon to full automatic. "Silas. Brace me."

Silas's massive hand clamped down on the top of the weapon.

Tyrion opened up on the contingent at the gate. The weapon chattered as tracers riddled the area before the gate. The orcs at the ram writhed and toppled in a spray of brackish gore.

Tyrion continued firing at the ram as it lay on the ground, essentially rendering it useless.

The effect was immediate. On both sides, man and beast paused for a moment in the fighting, looking up in the direction of the new attack. At the same moment, others turned and looked back across the fields towards the north.

Tyrion glanced back over his shoulder and saw Xena, riding at the head of the army, the horses of Gondor following behind her in a wall of destruction. They were several hundred yards away and closing quickly.

"Wait for it," Tyrion said, gauging the time.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Silas said at the same moment. "Check three! Check three!"

Tyrion looked in the indicated direction and saw a second group of men on horseback, charging south across the field towards the city.

"Those aren't ours!" Tyrion said as he tapped his com and stood up in view of Xena's advance.

This second group, while also armed for battle, showed the signs of recently being involved in one. Many of the men bled openly from wounds, and black blood stained their weapons.

"I have approximately three hundred more on horse, charging south across the field towards the city!" He reported. Then his eyes widened. Behind this second cavalry was another force of Orcs, charging after them in pursuit.

"We have a second group of uglies behind the newcomers!" Silas reported. "And I mean a lot of them!"

"Focus on the city!" Tyrion added quickly. "Xena! Take your forces towards the city and help those boys get through!"

"What the fuck are you doing?" Silas blurted.

Tyrion tossed the rifle to Silas and then raised his observer glasses, gazing down at the cluster of orcs, swarming across the field. He made an adjustment on his coms and then spoke again.

"Have you been monitoring, sir?" He asked. He nodded as someone replied.

"Who the fuck are you talking to?" Silas demanded.

"Very well," Tyrion said again, keeping the second cluster of enemy troops in the center of his sights. His finger depressed a small button on the side of his glasses. "Target is painted. You are cleared to deploy, sir."

Xena wheeled her forces around the two soldiers, passing to the left of them in a thunderous charge towards the beleaguered city. Behind them, the foot soldiers came running across the field, weapons ready.

The swords of the attackers shone silver in the sunlight as Xena and the others on horseback hacked their way through the enemy towards the gates. Her battle cry rang across the field. The charge passed over the attacking Orcs like a wave on the seashore, leaving in its wake, a swath to dead and maimed bodies.

Xena took her cavalry completely through the enemy, across to the other end of the field before swinging the formation around and returning in a second wave.

Above their war cries, Silas heard a different noise. It was a soft, high pitched sound, like a whistle, gradually increasing in volume.

"That sounds like," he began, then the realization dawned on him and his eyes went wide. "Mother fuck!" he dove for the earth, his hands covering his head.

Four objects slammed into the ground amidst the second Orc force. The ground erupted in a series of enormous fiery explosions. Bodies flew in all directions, or vanished in vaporous sprays. The earth erupted in a shower of dark clumps and stones, raining down among the few survivors.

Horses screamed in panic, flying blindly now towards the city. The first contingent attacking Edoras was ridden down from the north by the panicking retreat, while Xena's forces crashed into them from the east.

By the time the foot soldiers of Gondor reached the battlefield, there was little left for them to do. Any survivors were already bolting north from the field in terror.

A shadow shot across the field from the east, rose and wheeled in the sky before descending on the retreating forces to the north.

Blasts of tracer fire spat from beneath the nose of the Phoenix Fire as she strafed the remaining survivors, chewing the earth and bodies in a vicious finale.

"What the hell?" Silas asked in awe. Then he looked back at Tyrion and his gaze became instantly sharp.

"Droptops?" he blurted angrily. "You had some crazy son of a bitch drop four LG Drop tops on that field? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

A wagon clattered to a halt next to them and Felix looked up to see the Phoenix wheel around again before coasting to a stop and settling to the ground near the main gate.

From the field down below, they all saw Mavon waving to them as he strolled towards the ship. Beyond him, they could see Gabrielle, Nicolla, and Xena finishing up a final sweep and moving to join him.

As the battle finally ended, Xena sat astride her horse, her eyes blazing with fierce light. She looked about the field and then, with a cry, raised her weapon towards the sky in victory. The hundreds of riders around her echoed her cry, and the cheers rolled across the hazy plain.

Mavon's voice came over the coms. "How the fuck did you manage that, Chief?"

His voice stuck for a moment as he came to an abrupt halt before the ship. Then he stood up straight. "Uh, Chief? You better get down here."

"I know," Tyrion was grinning. He and Silas climbed aboard the wagon.

They drove the supply wagon down to the battlefield as quickly and as safely as they could.

When they finally arrived, they saw an older gentleman in a simple one piece jumpsuit of generic design, standing near Mavon, with his hands clasped at the small of his back. He was thin and lithe, with short cut gray hair and chiseled features, lined in distinguished manner by many years. A scar ran down his left cheek from just below the eye and vanished beneath his jaw line.

In spite of his civilian attire, he had the bearing of a high ranking military officer.

The soldiers of Gondor were already assisting the wounded men of Rohan back to the city as the wagon finally came to a stop and the three passengers dropped to the ground.

The rest of the party joined them and they all congregated near the ship.

"I thought she couldn't fly, Chief?" Silas commented.

"Not until recently, Lieutenant Moore," The man replied in a smooth, crisp accented baritone.

Silas, and indeed all of them, with the exception of Xena, Gabrielle, and Tyrion stopped dead in their tracks, dumbstruck.

The gentleman fixed each of them with a frosty grin and then nodded to Tyrion.

"Fortunately, there were quite a few retired artisans and technicians recovered in your rescue operation off Mount Estones." He finished.

Instantly, the members of Tyrion's team, including Tyrion himself stood at sharp attention.

"I'll be damned," Felix breathed.

The man fixed him with a hard look, effectively silencing him.

"Who is this?" Xena asked, looking the man up and down appraisingly.

"Sorry," Tyrion said, turning to Xena.

"General," he addressed her by rank. "May I present Colonel Allister Kleegan. Colonel, this is Xena. She commands the troops involved in this engagement."

Colonel Kleegan nodded to Xena curtly. "A pleasure, Madam." Then he fixed Tyrion with that same hard stare. "Master Chief. Once you have completed securing this fiasco, I want to see you in your ship, privately."

"Yes sir," Tyrion replied instantly. He snapped a salute that the older man returned with much less vigor. His steel eyes had an edge that was matched by the sound of disapproval in his voice.

He then turned to Felix.

"Lieutenant Malone," he continued. "Take Captain Sheil and assist with the injured. Lieutenant Moore, you and Lieutenant Mavonski assist in bolstering the defenses of this position." There was something that sounded like polite distaste when he said the word 'position.'

"Sir," Tyrion said. "If I may…"

"You may not, Master Chief," Kleegan cut him off. "Dismissed."

He turned and fixed Xena with his gaze. "General, if you would be so kind as to give me a few moments with my team leader here? We have a debriefing to attend to."

Xena's eyebrows rose in a mixture of surprise and confusion. "Of course."

She offered Tyrion a shrug along with her confused look, and then headed towards a cluster of Rohan soldiers surrounding Hallas.

Gabrielle watched the two of them depart. Only when Colonel Kleegan was inside the ship did the members of Old Number Seven finally relax.

"I'm sorry," She said, stepping over to Felix. "Did I just miss something?"

"That's Colonel Allister 'Killbot' Kleegan," Felix replied softly. "That's the chief's old C.O."

"Okay," Gabrielle shook her head. "Why does that give him the right to treat you like that?"

"Long story," Felix replied. "Let's just say that the Colonel and the Chief have some history."

Gabrielle watched Tyrion stride into his ship. She frowned in confusion. Tyrion's expression had been rigid, and yet, she had felt a sense of anxiety emanating from the old soldier.

"I'll lay twenty to one that ole Killbot is gonna ream the chief's ass," Felix finished.

"But you haven't done anything wrong, Felix," Gabrielle looked back at him questioningly.

"I'm sure Killbot will find something," Felix sighed. "He always does."

"Really," Gabrielle looked back at the ship and a sudden wave of protective anger came over her. Tyrion and his friends had saved her life, saved Xena's life, helped save other lives in the recent battles. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason for him, or any of the others for that matter, to receive any kind of dressing down from a stranger who just happened to show up.

"We'll see about that," she growled. She strode toward the hatch of the Phoenix Fire.

"Not a good idea, Gabs," Felix protested quickly.

"You're my friends, Felix," Gabrielle replied. "I don't leave my friends to stand by themselves."

When Tyrion entered his reconditioned ship, it was with a feeling of trepidation. It was a sensation he had not experienced in nearly two decades.

He stepped into the main cabin and saw Allister leaning over the small table at the rear of the cabin, going through information on various data pads.

"Finding everything you need?" Tyrion asked lightly.

Allister fixed him with a razor edged stare.

"I may be retired," he said, looking back down at the information before him. "However, in this situation, I would think military protocol would be indicated. In that capacity, you will address me as Colonel, or sir. Am I perfectly clear, Master Chief?"

Tyrion straightened and saluted. "Very well, Colonel." He frowned in confusion.

Allister looked up at him, and that frosty smile touched the corners of his mouth again.

"Good," he said. Then he lifted one of the data pads and looked at it. "Now, give me one good reason why I shouldn't relieve you of command and pull your entire team out of this theater of engagement?"

Tyrion wasn't sure he had heard the man correctly. "Sir?"

Allister tossed the data pad in front of Tyrion and placed his hands behind his back.

"One of the first tasks I set the technicians was to reestablish communications, so I could monitor our private channel and your primary one. If I were to begin to list the faults I have heard in your operation, we would be here till morning. Suffice it to say, you and your teams personal involvement with members of these primitive societies has already exceeded acceptable limits. Your professionalism in this operation has been cast by the wayside even before you deployed into the field. And the arrogant recklessness of your team has already led to two injuries."

"Two, sir?" Tyrion stammered, still trying to process everything he was hearing. "Felix was the only…"

"Captain Sheil was also wounded in your last engagement, Master Chief." Allister cut him off. "And on that note, your decision to pair her with an individual from a protected Low Technology planet is irresponsible at best, ludicrous at worst, regardless of what your Telepathic Intelligence Officer programmed into her head, another issue that I find morally dubious."

Tyrion's confusion was growing. How did the Colonel know about his previous encounter with Gabrielle?

Allister clearly read his subordinates expression and his frosty smile sharpened to a razors edge.

"I said that the first thing I had done was reestablishing communications." Allister said evenly. "The second was access to the secure section of your data spool, and all the encrypted files locked within."

"You hacked my data spool?" Tyrion stammered.

"It really wasn't much of a challenge, Master Chief," Allister replied with a soft scornful chuckle. "You are terribly predictable. You have been unable to put down the book, Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace for the last twenty years. All I needed to do was input the name of the author, Shin-Chi-Mon, and I was in. Any child with half a mind could crack that code."

He glanced at the information again and sighed. "You seem to be developing a knack for involving your people in questionable operations."

Tyrion forced his building outrage back down, falling back on his training to help him deal with his superior officer.

"Two standard cycles ago, you perform an illicit landing on the protected world of Sol, in sector thirty seven, and subsequently render unauthorized medical aid to one of the natives."

"Unauthorized?" Tyrion stammered, his military courtesy fading quickly.

"Then you embark on an illicit reconnaissance and demolitions attack on military forces in the region," Allister went on relentlessly. "And now we get to the really entertaining portion. You transport a native of that protected world to Tantarus Drift on a recruiting mission, have your Telepathic Intelligence Officer perform an unauthorized mind scan, acquire logistics, support, and munitions for a second illegal incursion on said Low Technology planet, and then, to top it all off, you utilize an illegally manufactured Thermal Detonator!"

Allister looked up from his data pad. "Do you have any idea how many laws of the Confederation you have obliterated in these actions, mister?"

"Twelve, sir," Tyrion replied. Suddenly, his military courtesy was unimportant. "Well, thirteen if you count that addendum to the Planetary Autonomy Act, though I personally never saw how that one applied to non Confederation outposts, but,"

"Tread carefully, Mister," Allister nearly hissed. "One of your refugees happens to be a retired Adjudicant. We have had several conversations regarding the current situation, and the only thing saving your cocky ass at the moment is the fact that we were apparently brought here against our will."

Then Allister's eyes flicked in the direction of the hatch. "I'm sorry," he said. "Do you have something to add, miss?"

Tyrion looked back and discovered Gabrielle standing in the open hatch. Her expression was a mixture of surprise, outrage, and more than a little fear.

Her mouth opened and closed mutely a couple of times before she finally found her voice. When she spoke, it was laced with barely contained outrage.

"Yes, I have something to say," she stepped into the cabin. "Who in Tartarus do you think you are?"

"I beg your pardon?" Allister replied.

"Gabs," Tyrion began, but she stepped past him and glared at the Colonel from across the table.

"You come in here and start jumping all over my friends, because you don't approve of what Tyrion did for us? You have no idea what happened when Tyrion crashed on my world, or the risks he took to protect innocent people!"

"Regardless," Kleegan began, but Gabrielle cut him off, speaking with a ferocity that surprised everyone in the cabin, including her.

"As far as this whole unauthorized aid thing," she went on. "I happen to think that he did the right thing."

"He was not authorized to interfere in the development of any protected society, regardless," Kleegan protested.

"And the life he saved was mine, so _you_ be careful, mister!" Gabrielle spat. Even as her outrage took hold, it seemed her confidence also blossomed. She held the Colonels steely gaze evenly. Frosty gray and icy green vied for dominance. Much to everyone's surprise, green won. "And since you feel that rank should play into this, then let me ask you something? Does an Amazon Queen outrank a Colonel?"

"Well, I," Kleegan began.

"I think it does!" Gabrielle stated. "And so does a General!"

"And since that is the case," she continued. "Then I say, leave them alone to do the job they volunteered to do, and I'm sure that Xena will agree with me!"

Tyrion noticed for the first time that Gabrielle's hands were trembling. He looked at her face and saw the emotion there. Beneath that veneer of outrage, he could deduce something else. The young woman was terrified even as she was dressing Kleegan down.

"All the old man has to do is fire back," Tyrion thought. "And she'll crumble in a second."

"So," Gabrielle finished. "If there aren't any other questions, we'll call this whole thing over, okay?"

She turned to Tyrion. "Xena needs you up at the main hall, Tyrion."

"Yes ma'am," Tyrion nodded.

Gabrielle gave Allister one more frosty look before exiting the cabin.

Allister stared at the open hatch for a moment, a strange, almost bemused expression on his face. Then his face resumed its previously stony countenance and he fixed Tyrion with that steely gaze again.

"You heard the lady," he said evenly. "Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Tyrion saluted and followed Gabrielle. He didn't see her heading up towards the battered gates of Edoras.

A soft choking sound drew his attention towards the front of his ship, and he saw a pair of booted feet beyond the forward air foil.

Smiling, he went forward and saw Gabrielle bent over double, her hand braced against the skin of the ship as her belly convulsed.

Tyrion folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the hull, waiting for Gabrielle's nausea to pass.

"Since when did you get so tough?" He asked. "I don't remember ever seeing anyone drop a bomb of Killbot like that before."

Gabrielle looked back at him. Her complexion was pale, and her body still trembled a bit. She wiped her hand over her mouth and took a deep breath.

"Queen, huh?" Tyrion went on. "I think the two of us have some serious catching up to do?"

"What is it with you people?" Gabrielle asked in a rough voice. "How do you get so intimidating?"

Tyrion smiled. "You seemed to handle it pretty well?"

"You people terrify me, Tyrion," Gabrielle confessed. "More, now that I remember everything. But even before that, you and the others scare me half to death. And that man," she gestured to the ship, indicating Allister. "He scares me more than you ever could."

"He's a bad son of a bitch, Gabs," Tyrion nodded. "That man taught me everything I know. Everything you remember me doing, I learned from him. And there's quite a bit that you've never seen, even more interesting, that he taught me."

Gabrielle suppressed a shudder, and Tyrion gave a reassuring smile. "Come on," he nodded towards the gate. "Let's go see what the boss wants."

Gabrielle nodded and the two of them began walking towards the city.

Tyrion put an arm around Gabrielle's shoulder and gave her a friendly squeeze. "So, tell me more about this whole Amazon Queen thing?"

The golden hall of Meduseld was alight with torches and bustling with the activity of a dozen captains of the Mark, each conversing with others in an attempt to come to a consensus on their next course of action.

Seated on the throne, still adorned in his battle armor, Eomer watched everyone, his own expression one of deep contemplation.

Beside him stood two of his captains, Breggolard and Argoman. Both men were tall and lean, dressed in well worn armor. Breggolard wore the deep magenta armor that identified him as a captain of the halls of Meduseld, while Argoman wore the rich green of the Westfold. The two men were deep in conversation when Tyrion and Gabrielle entered the room.

All eyes turned back to the door as the last two arrived.

Tyrion glanced over towards one of the series of benches near the periphery of the room and found the rest of his team lounging there patiently. They fell in with him and Gabrielle as they approached the king.

Hallas stepped from the side and bowed his head to the king.

"My Lord Eomer," he said dutifully. "I present Gabrielle Sunmane, as named by my Captain. Friend of the Mark, and companion to Xena, the kings' m, erm, friend."

"Was he just about to say 'king's man'?" Mavon whispered to Felix.

Felix suppressed a smile and nodded.

Gabrielle stepped forward and bowed her head.

"You wear the armor of Rohan," Eomer nodded in return. "I see that my captain's gifts have served you well."

"Yes, they have," Gabrielle replied.

"And who are these others?" Eomer gestured to Tyrion and his companions.

"This is Tyrion Darquefyre," Gabrielle replied, gesturing to Tyrion. She introduced each of them by name before facing the king again. "They came with the men of Gondor, in order to help protect you and your city."

"You have my thanks," Eomer nodded. Then his gaze shifted and his expression changed ever so slightly to one of curiosity.

Gabrielle turned and saw Allister Kleegan striding purposefully towards the center of the room. He stopped beside Tyrion and the others.

"And this is?" Eomer asked, gesturing to the older man.

"Colonel Allister Kleegan, at your service, My Lord," The colonel replied smartly. He stood rigidly and gave a curt bow. "I was the pilot of the vessel now resting beyond your walls."

"You were the one responsible for turning our retreat into a rout?" Eomer asked with an air of distaste.

"I'm afraid so, My Lord," Allister nodded. "Unfortunately, there was no way for me to warn you or your men of my approach. Nor could I prepare you for the tools I was about to employ in your defense. You have my abject apologies for that breach in protocol. However, I believe that we can all agree that the end result was beneficial to both your men and your city at large?"

Tyrion, Gabrielle, and even Xena all looked at Allister in surprise. The steely man of a few minutes ago was gone. Now there stood a man who was more like a diplomat than a soldier.

"That is true, My Lord," Argoman nodded. "Were it not for this man's aid, I doubt we would have reached the gates."

"Indeed," Eomer agreed. He gave a nod in Allister's direction. "You have my thanks, and the thanks of my men." He looked at Xena, standing nearby. "Both of you."

Xena nodded and gave a slight smile.

"If I may, Lord," Allister offered. "I fear these platitudes may be premature. We have won this engagement, yes. However, I fear that this may be only the first of several such attacks. We need to act on this window of opportunity quickly if we are to secure the future safety of this city."

"What would you propose?" Eomer asked.

"The bolstering of your defenses here is tantamount to any future actions we may undertake." Allister said. He fixed Tyrion with that steely gaze and there was a hint of resignation in his voice. "While it is against the policy of my people to offer direct aid in these circumstances, I know that Master Darquefyre and his team have brought with them munitions and equipment that would be invaluable in reinforcing the outer defense of this city. I propose that they utilize that material to its fullest in conjunction with any other repair work."

"You do?" Mavon said before he could stop himself.

"I also recommend that we utilize our vessel to do a visual survey of the lands within two days travel of the city to discover if another wave is indeed marching toward us." Allister proposed. "This will give us ample warning to prepare an appropriate defense."

"You can do this?" Eomer asked.

"The entire reconnaissance mission would take no more than a few hours, Lord," Allister replied.

Argoman stepped forward. "Would it be possible to also see what has befallen the company at Helms Deep? We have had no word from them in some time and it is the general fear that our ancient fortress may have fallen."

"Of course," Allister nodded.

Now Tyrion and the rest of his team, as well as Xena and Gabrielle were looking at Allister with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

Eomer noticed this. "I gather that this cooperation was not what your companions expected, Master Kleegan."

"As a general rule," Allister nodded. "Our laws forbid this level of aid in these situations, and our involvement here would not be popularly accepted. However, I believe that the unusual circumstances of our arrival may grant us a certain dispensation in this case."

"I see," Eomer nodded. "Very well. Make what plans you must. We shall have a council tomorrow and discuss what is to be done."

"As you wish, My Lord. If you could provide us with maps of the surrounding area, and the location of this Helms Deep, we can make our assessments," Allister nodded. Then he looked at Gabrielle and almost smiled. "Highness?"

Gabrielle was so taken aback that she almost forgot to nod. "Of course."

"Master Chief?" Allister said. "If you and your team would come with me?"

Allister gave another nod to Eomer and then Xena in turn before turning smartly and striding towards the exit with the rest of Old Number Seven following.

Gabrielle looked at Xena questioningly. Xena nodded, indicating that the two of them should also join Tyrion and his people. Gabrielle bowed her head to Eomer and the two women also departed.

Tyrion and the others all filed into the main cabin of the Phoenix Fire.

Gabrielle was the last to enter, seating herself next to Nicolla.

"First and foremost," Allister began. "We need to secure this location as our base of operations, including the construction of a landing platform within the walls to protect the ship. Lieutenant Mavonski, Lieutenant Moore, I will need you to coordinate that along with the deployment of your T.P.R.'s at strategic locations on our most likely plain of assault."

"Yes, sir," Silas grumbled.

"Colonel," Tyrion spoke up. "If I may, sir. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Do not mistake my cooperation in this operation as consent, Master Chief," Allister said sharply. "I do not agree with the premise of this mission any more now than I did an hour ago."

He fixed each of them with a hard stare. "However, we are here, now, in the field, and our assets are poorly protected as it is. I am merely maximizing our defensive potential in order to safeguard our return home."

A figure halted at the hatch and all eyes turned to see a young man, a messenger from the hall, standing wide eyed at the hatch, looking within.

"Come in," Allister beckoned.

The young man stepped into the ship and gazed about in wonder for a moment before blinking and looking back at Allister.

"I have the maps you requested, Lord," he said nervously.

"Ah," Allister took the rolled bundle from the man. "Thank you."

"My Lord," the boy said and he quickly withdrew.

Allister unrolled the maps and spread them on the small table at the rear of the passenger cabin.

"Very well," he said. He studied the map for a few moments. "We will commence a visual reconnoiter of the surrounding area, first flying west to confirm the status of this location, here," he pointed at the small image marking the fortress of helms deep. "Then continue back north and east to survey the surrounding countryside. The whole mission should entail approximately two hours flying time."

"If possible," Tyrion added. He pointed to another small image, marked 'Isengard'. "I would like to stretch our survey to include this location. Full spectral analysis, thermal, UV, the works."

"I'm afraid that won't be possible," Allister shook his head. "The technicians were able to get the ship air worthy, yes, but we were forced to cannibalize several systems for the more delicate components. Those components were taken from your surveillance equipment. The only thing we would be able to do is a visual confirmation of the target, but no in depth intelligence would be possible."

"I'd sure like to have eyes on that place," Silas mused. "Since my gut tells me that will be one of our next stops."

Tyrion nodded. "At least some high rez images to plan an insertion."

"Impossible, I'm afraid," Allister shook his head. "Not unless you have a backup system?"

Gabrielle looked down at the map and sighed. When she looked up, she saw Tyrion staring thoughtfully at Felix.

Felix looked about the room, mildly confused. "What?"

Tyrion smiled. "I got an idea."

Felix looked at Tyrion as if his friend and commanding officer had lost his mind. Beside him, Gabrielle wore a similar expression.

"That's your idea?" The young medic asked.

"Yup," Tyrion replied with a nod. "It's the only way we can get the Intel we need."

"And you want to use my eyes," Felix continued. "You want to tie my eyes into the nav system and use them to take a bunch of pictures?"

"Yup," Tyrion nodded again.

"Leaving me blind in the process." Felix finished.

"You can't do that to him, Tyrion," Gabrielle protested.

"It won't be permanent," Tyrion said sharply.

"Oh yes it will," Felix said. He pointed at his face, indicating the prosthetics. "These babies are filled with micro circuitry, attuned to the electrochemical pulses of the cerebral cortex! The only way to re-attune those pulses is to go in and reconfigure the…"

"Speak Basic, you geek!" Mavon moaned.

Felix stopped and glared at his partner. "These eyes speak the language of my brain."

He stood up and moved the maps aside and activated the imaging screen. He keyed in several commands and brought up the image of a wiring schematic.

"The system speaks a completely different language," he went on. "In order for you to use my eyes as the sensor package, you would need to rewrite the software for the entire ship, or, crack open my eyes and somehow rewrite the language they speak." He pointed at several locations on the schematic. "The other little wrinkle," he went on, fixing Tyrion with a harsh glance. "Is the fact that my eyes aren't set up to handle the power output that the ship's systems. You hook these babies up to your system and the only thing we're gonna get is a very quick pop as they fry, leaving me blind until we can get to a med facility and get me a new set." He paused for a moment. "I'm thinking of going with a gray, maybe hazel. Not really sure."

"Now you're just being an asshole," Silas growled.

"Yes I am!" Felix shot back. "But I'm also telling it like it is! There's no way for you to tie my eyes into the sensors and make this work! You do it, and I'm done, out of this whole deal, period! If, by some wild ass miracle, this did work, I'm still fucked!"

He planted his hands on the table and sighed.

Gabrielle stepped forward and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"We can just fly over and look, Chief," Silas said simply. "Granted, it's not as good as a real flash pass, but it's better than nothing."

"I don't like flying low and slow over any potential target," Tyrion said. "The Phoenix is our only ticket out of here, if we can get her space worthy. Any more damage?" He shrugged.

"Wait a second," Felix said quietly. He was keying in more commands on the keyboard.

"What is it?" Xena asked. "What are you seeing?"

"That's exactly what I am doing," Felix muttered.

"What?" Xena replied.

"Brilliant mind working," Felix said impatiently. "A moment please."

Gabrielle smiled.

Felix became more animated as he felt his idea formulating. He pulled the rough map back over the table and began measuring distances on the map.

"What's on your mind, Bro?" Mavon asked.

"Finding a decent sketch artist," Felix muttered. "Someone with a sense of freaking distance."

"Besides that," Tyrion said.

Felix sighed and continued working, his movements becoming more intense as his smile sprouted.

"There, then there, then wheel and back to here, then back to base…figure flying time at max speed three hours thirty minutes, give or take," He looked up. "Okay. I can do it."

"I thought you said we can't do it," Xena said.

"Not the way the chief wants to," Felix replied. "But, if we push it. I mean really push it, then we might be able to get some of the information we need."

He smiled at Tyrion, and some of the cocky attitude emerged. "As usual, the Chief is over analyzing things again."

"Well," Silas said. "Maybe you could make it simpler then?"

"He's going to do what he did that one weekend, when we were on Azeron," Mavon said with his own smile growing. "What was the name of that club? The Blue Leaf, right?"

"I remember that place," Silas smiled. "The one with all those cute dancers."

"Really?" Xena's eyebrow rose.

"We don't need to go into the details," Felix said, suddenly uncomfortable. "But that's exactly what I propose."

"Didn't you pay that one server about a thousand credits to set one of your eyes in that back dressing room so you could see that dancer? You remember, the one with real nice…"

"What we do," Felix said loudly. "Is mount the eyes in a simple box on the underside of the hull. Then I go along for the ride. The tricky part would be trying to set up an image recording device and tying it in to the network"

"I don't understand," Gabrielle said with a frown.

"Fully charged, my eyes should last a good three to three and a half hours before the internal power sources are completely dead. At that point, I'm gonna need eight hours to recharge and reinitialize them, cause when the units die out, they reset to their default generic setting."

"Your eyes work outside of your head?" Xena asked.

"It's not something I recommend," Felix replied.

"Unless he's at the Blue Leaf," Mavon added with a smirk.

"Do we have to bring that up now?" Felix protested. "That was almost six years ago!"

"She found his little bug and tossed it out the window," Mavon went on relentlessly, watching Gabrielle and Xena's expressions. Felix had begun to flush crimson.

"We all thought he was just drunk, but he was getting all messed up because his eye was bouncing out a window and rolling down a hill." Mavon finished.

"It can be somewhat disorienting when I leave them on while they're outside my head." Felix went on, not daring to look at Gabrielle. "But, if we do this, they'll need to be fully charged. We mount them, switch them on, and take off right away."

"And how do we get hard copy of what you see? You said something about recording the images?" Tyrion asked.

"That's gonna be the touchy part," Felix replied. "What I need to do is come up with a self contained, self powered memory unit that I can wire into them. Then I simply click a switch and save still images for retrieval later."

"That doesn't sound so tricky," Nicolla said.

"It'll be trickier than it sounds, trust me," Felix replied. "I'm gonna need to manufacture the memory unit, pretty much from scratch, which means cannibalizing more pieces from the ship." He looked up at Tyrion apologetically. "Sorry boss."

He began sketching a rough schematic on a data pad. "Now, the problem is, standard magnetic memory systems won't be sensitive enough to record what I see, because the resolution is too fine. We'd need something a hell of a lot more advanced. Something that can handle the terra-pixelization that my eyes utilize."

He bounced the stylus up and down against the table as he considered.

Nicolla saw the confused expression on Gabrielle's face, smiled, and leaned a little closer to the young bard.

"You getting all this?" she asked.

Gabrielle smiled and shook her head. "Not a bit," she whispered back.

Felix's eyes were scanning his rapidly growing schematic.

"First issue is power," Felix said to himself. It was as if he had suddenly forgotten the other seven people in the room. "Power, power, power. Too much and I'm screwed, too little and this won't work."

After a few moments, he grinned and drew his sidearm. "Let me see here."

He ejected the power clip and set the weapon down on the table. Then he began gently dismantling the clip.

"If I can modulate the pulse cell to emit a smaller, steadier current, then we have a battery," he muttered to himself as he fiddled.

"You know," Silas said nervously. "Those things are a might unstable when you crack them open like that."

"Relax boss," Felix didn't even look up. "As long as I don't cross wire the polarity contacts, it won't explode."

"Explode!" Gabrielle started.

Felix paused and looked up at the other expectant faces. "Sorry," He smiled. "Don't mind me. Just go on." Then his head turned back to his schematic and the partially dismantled energy clip.

After several moments of uncomfortable silence, Allister gave the assignments and the crew began filing out of the ship, heading to their appointed tasks.

"Yo, Mave!" Felix suddenly called, bringing them all to a halt. "You got those rocks you found?"

All eyes turned back to look at Felix.

"Yeah," Mavon replied.

"Give me one," Felix nodded.

Mavon reached into his pocket and drew out a small object. Everyone froze when the small, red crystal arced through the air into Felix's waiting palm.

"Hey!" Tyrion protested, checking his pocket. Then he looked back at Felix.

"Where'd you find that?"

"That looks like the ones you got from that old lady in the woods," Gabrielle said to Xena at the same time.

"What?" both Tyrion and Felix said in unison.

"I was given two of those by the lady we rescued in the woods, just before we ended up here," Xena explained.

"So was I," Tyrion looked back at Mavon questioningly.

"What?" Mavon asked, looking suddenly guilty. "I just found them in my pocket!"

They all gathered around the table. "Okay folks," Tyrion instructed. "Cough em up."

He set the two stones he had been given on the table.

Mavon's eyebrow rose, while Felix simply leaned closer to the table.

Reluctantly, Mavon set two more of the small crystals down next to Tyrion's, and then Xena placed two more next to those.

"I'll be a son of a bitch," Felix said, setting the final stone on the table next to the others.

All seven crystals were identical in size, shape, and color. Each one was about half a finger long, and just as thick, colored a deep crimson red that glittered under the light of the table. They had an arrow head shape to them, faceted and flawlessly clear.

"Curious," Allister commented.

"Freaky, if you ask me," Mavon replied.

"One for each of us," Nicolla breathed.

All eyes turned to the young woman.

"That's what it is," She said, looking up at them. "Seven crystals and seven of us!"

"Xe?" Silas asked. "Who gave you yours again?"

Xena looked at Gabrielle and then back at the big man, and shrugged. "An old lady that we saw caught out in the storm that brought us here."

Silas and Tyrion exchanged looks of surprise.

"Describe her." Tyrion said.

Xena did so and Silas saw the recognition on Tyrion's face.

"Sounds like the same woman that gave me mine," Tyrion nodded. "Mavon? Did you see who gave you yours?"

"I already told you," Mavon replied somewhat defensively. "I found them in my pocket." He considered for a second. "Someone had to have slipped them there when I made my mad dash to the flight deck after Nicky saw that EMP wave on her screen."

"So someone was tossing rubies into our pockets?" Gabrielle asked. "Why?"

"These aren't rubies," Felix replied breathlessly.

At that, all eyes turned to look at him as he slowly picked one up and looked at it closely.

Gabrielle, standing closest to him, saw for the first time, Felix's eyes become slightly less than normal as he peered closely the object. He held it up, his very being seemingly held by the glittering stone.

"Crystallized carbon silicate would be closer to the mark," He whispered in awe. "This is unfreakin-believeable."

He set down the first one and picked up another, and then a third, scrutinizing them in turn.

"These had to have been manufactured," he finally said.

"Manufactured?" Allister repeated. "What makes you say so, Lieutenant?"

Felix picked up another stone and held two of them up side by side.

"The crystalline lattice is flawless," he said. "Perfectly flawless and what's more, identical."

"That's impossible, Lieutenant," Allister said.

"Unless they were manufactured, Colonel," Felix finished. He looked up at Allister. "You said you got the coil back up to snuff, right?"

Allister nodded. "Aside from some of the tersery systems, your computer, med equipment, communications, and flight systems are adequate."

Felix took one of the crystals and moved to the equipment panel on the far wall.

"Okay," he began saying over and over. He drew out a medical scanner and made a couple of adjustments. "Let's just have a look/see…"

He set the crystal down on one of the seats and held the diagnostic scanner over the small object.

Xena recognized the object that Tyrion had used when he had first examined Gabriele all those years ago. It had been the item that had allowed Tyrion and her to look inside Gabrielle's body at the nasty javelin wound she had received in Thessalonia.

"Mave," Felix motioned. "Hold this here, over the rock, like this."

Mavon stepped up and took hold of the scanner.

Felix moved to the display screen and switched it on.

The image of the crystal materialized on the screen. Felix magnified the image, staring at it in awe.

"What are we looking at?" Tyrion asked as the rest of them stepped closer to get a better look.

"This thing is completely flawless," Felix mused. "Look, no internal cracks or defects."

He adjusted the image, magnifying it. Still the interior was completely clear.

"Chief?" Felix asked. "What's the maximum magnification you got on this thing?"

"You can look at the chemical workings of a viral cell, if you need to." Tyrion replied.

"I need to," Felix replied, setting the magnification as far as it would go. In the next image, they could all see tiny specks strung together in countless revolving chains, dancing within the confines of the stone.

"What the hell is that?" Silas asked.

"Son of a bitch," Felix whispered, then he began to chuckle. "Unbelieveable!"

"What is that?" Xena asked.

"Data," Felix replied. "Stored data."

"Um, Doc?" Mavon said nervously. "This thing's glowing."

All heads snapped back to where Mavon stood, holding the scanner over the stone, and saw the faint radiance emanating from it.

Felix actually laughed out loud. "It's trying to down load!" He turned back to the controls and began making adjustments. "Come on baby," he whispered excitedly. "Come on. Give me what you got."

"What are you doing, Lieutenant?" Allister asked, leaning over the young man's shoulder.

"The crystal is attempting to download its information into the medical scanner," Felix replied. "If I can find the right modulation, I might be able to see what's stored on this sucker."

"Um, Doc?" Mavon said again. "What are you doing?"

"Just a second," Felix replied.

"Doc?" Mavon repeated.

"Almost there," Felix shot back impatiently.

There was a rapidly rising sound and then the scanner in Mavon's hand exploded in a shower of sparks. He let the wrecked item drop from his fingers and fell back with a cry, clutching his wounded hand against his chest.

The screen before Felix went suddenly white as everyone dropped to the floor. When no other explosive sounds were forthcoming, all attention turned to Mavon, cradling his scorched hand.

"Brilliant!" Mavon moaned. "Fucking brilliant you prick!"

Felix knelt next to Mavon and inspected the damage. The fingertips were blackened, with the burns decreasing in severity as he moved further up Mavon's hand.

Felix grasped a tissue regenerator and began passing it slowly over the mangled skin.

"Sorry about that, buddy," He said sincerely.

"You okay, Mave?" Tyrion knelt opposite.

"Yeah, yeah," Mavon winced. "Next time, let the mad professor hold the stuff that'll explode!"

Felix smiled. "I didn't know it would pop like that."

"Felix?" Nicolla's voice sounded behind them. "You might want to look at this?"

"Not till he puts my fingers back together!" Mavon shot back angrily.

Tyrion took over the reconstruction of Mavon's hand. "I got it."

Felix turned back and stopped short when he saw the display screen.

Images and computer code were scrolling and changing on the screen at incredible speeds.

"What the hell is that?" Silas asked.

Felix's feet were suddenly leaden. He forced himself to move towards the console, his eyes transfixed by what he was seeing.

Billions upon billions of bits of information were streaming across the screen in an endless flow of information, too fast for the eye to keep pace with.

"I'll be damned," he breathed.

"You will be, when I can make a fist again!" Mavon shot back.

Xena stepped up next to Felix. "What is that?"

Felix focused on the screen, watching the images and untranslatable code bouncing across the screen.

"Physiognomy," he said quietly. "Chemistry, biological makeup, DNA, structure." He looked back at the others and then at Mavon.

"I think it's you," he finally said.

"Me?" Mavon winced again. "What do you mean me?"

Felix picked up the crystal and studied it again. "I think it's a data storage device. And it's recorded you!"

"Him?" Allister asked. "You mean his physical appearance, parameters and such?"

"I mean him," Felix repeated. "Everything, right down to the molecular level. I wouldn't be surprised if it included memories, life experiences, everything!" He looked back at the crystal again in awe. "The sum of someone's life experiences, reduced to basic information on a storage device!"

"Is that possible?" Gabrielle asked. "Everything that a person knows or is, put into something like that?"

"No," Silas answered immediately.

"Theoretically, yes," Felix countered. "Though the space required would be enormous, but it is possible."

"So it's like, what?" Gabrielle asked. "A copy of someone's soul?"

"If you like," Felix grinned. "Amazing!"

"It's horrific," Nicolla said suddenly.

She took the stone from the table and looked at it. Suddenly, her face went pale and her features contorted in pain. She cried out and let the thing drop from her fingers.

Xena caught her, holding her steady as she threatened to topple over.

"What the hell was that?" Silas asked, grasping her from the opposite side.

"It's alive!" Nicolla gasped. "He's right! It is everything! It's a living breathing person, trapped in that thing! It's conscious!"

"It can't be!" Felix stammered.

Nicolla looked at Tyrion in surprise and horror. "It was you!"  
"Me?" Tyrion stammered.

Nicolla was trembling. "You were alive, and screaming! Trapped within that thing!"

Something akin to panic was gripping her voice. "You couldn't get out! You were calling to us, begging to be let out!"

Tyrion finished working on Mavon's hand and rose.

He put a hand on either shoulder and looked in Nicolla's eyes.

"Nicky!" he said sharply. "Look at me!"

Her green eyes locked on his.

"I'm right here," Tyrion said more gently. "I'm right in front of you."

"It's only data, Nicky," Felix said, suddenly unsure. "It isn't real."

Nicolla fell into Tyrion's arms, sobbing. "I saw you in a cell, dark and cold, locked away, forgotten, starving. I could feel everything!"

Tyrion looked up at Allister in surprise. "Tanzarri Six?"

"Where we liberated you and your previous team," Allister nodded. "That was twenty odd years ago!"

Tyrion caught Xena's questioning gaze. He offered a bitter smile. "You aren't the only one to go through being a prisoner."

He looked down at Nicolla. "It was twenty years ago, Nicky. It wasn't real."

"That means it recorded everything, including the associated emotions," Felix whispered. "Who or what would need that?"

At that, Tyrion would say no more, though his and Silas's expressions spoke to knowledge they were unwilling to share.

Mavon was on his feet, flexing his healed fingers.

Felix set the crystal on the table and stared at the small cluster of stones.

"Nicky," he said quietly. "I need you to figure out which of these stones goes with which person."

"What?" Nicolla gasped. "I'm not touching those things again!"

"Think about it!" Felix said sternly. "Seven stones, seven of us. Each of us is encoded on one of those things. They need to go to whomever they're coded to."

"Why?" Silas asked.

"I don't know," Felix shook his head. "But my gut tells me that it's important."

Then he sighed. "It also tells me that my idea won't work."

"Why not?" Gabrielle asked.

"I had hoped to use one of these as a recording device," Felix explained. "Problem is, they've already been formatted, so to speak, and I don't know how to reformat them to work for us."

"I am not touching those things again!" Nicolla said emphatically.

"Fine," Felix replied. He spread them out on the table. "You shouldn't have to touch them if I keep them far apart. Just do your voodoo over each one."

"Those things are an abomination," Nicolla shivered.

"I need you to trust me on this, Nicky," Felix pressed.

"Why?" Silas asked.

"I don't know," Felix admitted. "I just have a feeling."

"Nicky," Tyrion said gently. He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Nicolla shrugged away from his touch and held her hands up in surrender.

"Okay, okay," She fixed Felix with an icy glare. Then she stepped up to the table and tentatively held her hand over the first crystal. Her fingers twitched slightly before she withdrew with a shudder.

"Xena," she said. Then she moved to the next one.

"Silas."

The big man reached over and took the indicated crystal.

She continued through Tyrion, Mavon, and Gabrielle before she paused, and her expression became haunted.

"What's up?" Mavon asked, looking at his crystal curiously.

Nicolla shifted uneasily. "Me. This one is me."

Felix reached over and grabbed the remaining crystal. "That would make this one mine then."

Nicolla looked at him sternly and then back at the red object sitting on the table before her.

"Nothing's gonna happen, Nicky," Felix offered.

"How do you know that, you twit!" Nicolla shot back angrily.

Tyrion stepped around the table and picked up Nicolla's crystal, dropping it into one of the smaller, unused pockets of her backpack.

"There," he said reassuringly. "All done."

She gave him the same icy glare and stepped away from the table, seating herself on one of the travel seats nearby.

"Well, then," Allister offered. "With that diversion resolved, what was your plan regarding the surveillance of the surrounding area?"

Felix sighed. "Me sitting at the navigation station while my eyes are stuck beneath the ship. Then I start drawing when we get back. Any plan to record images is pretty much shot to hell now."

Tyrion looked towards the open hatch. "Then that's what we'll have to do," he said, almost as an afterthought.

All eyes turned to see another messenger standing nervously just beyond the door.

"What can we do for you, young man?" Allister asked.

"Forgive me," the boy said. He was young and thin, no more than a teenager. He wore a tunic that marked him as a messenger from the king.

"My Lord his preparing a feast, to celebrate the victory in the field this day, and he sends his regards and asks that you join him at his table as his honored guests."

Allister nodded. "Inform the King that we would be honored to attend."

The boy bowed and departed. As soon as he was out of earshot, several of the company groaned.

Allister looked about the table sternly.

"Our host has invited us to participate in a State Function," he said. "And we will not risk appearing rude by refusing. Is that clear?"

He turned to Felix. "Lieutenant Malone. How long will you require assembling the necessary components to execute your plan tomorrow morning?"

"We have enough time for me to manufacture the mounting bracket and help get the city fortified," Felix replied. "After that, I'll need to recharge my eyes so they have a full charge in the morning."

"In other words," Mavon scoffed. "You're bowing out of the feast tonight."

"Pretty much," Felix shrugged. He looked at Tyrion. "Send my apologies to the King, will you?"

He wiped his rough schematic from the data pad and began sketching something much simpler.

Allister gave Felix a pointed look and then sighed. "Very well. You all have your assigned tasks. Dismissed."

Several hours later, the two large cannons were mounted to the wooden towers that flanked the main gate of Edoras, the burnt wall was repaired with fresh timbers, and the team was cleaning up in anticipation of that evening's festivities.

All, that is, except Felix.

"You are going to join us later, aren't you?" Nicolla asked as she moved to the exit of the ship. She was the last one to leave.

"Sure, sure," Felix answered automatically. He didn't even look up from his work.

"Felix," Nicolla chided.

Felix set the micro welder down and looked up at the young woman.

He gestured to the small metallic box he was constructing. "Look, my eyes are gonna be sitting in this thing tomorrow. I'm gonna get this done, and get it done right, okay. I'll be there later."

She gave him a dubious stare and then departed. Felix gave a soft sigh of relief.

"Alone at last."

Gabrielle stood in front of the silver mirror, staring at herself. She was dressed in a gown of Rohan fashion, made from cream colored fabric, trimmed in silver. It was a simple garment that fitted her nicely.

Xena sat nearby, her own dress discarded on the bed.

"Not changing for the party?" Gabrielle teased. She knew Xena had a marked dislike of things she thought superficial.

Xena was a warrior, and she preferred her own armor to any stately fashion.

Xena shrugged. "You pull this stuff off better than I do, Gabrielle. You always have."

"Oh, come on," Gabrielle grinned. "You clean up pretty good, when you want to."

"Well," Xena countered. "Perhaps I don't want to."

Gabrielle sighed. Then she smiled mischievously. "I bet Hallas would like to see you in something other than armor."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Don't start."

"I bet Tyrion and his people aren't showing up in their uniforms," Gabrielle continued.

"Gabrielle," Xena said. She gestured to herself. "This is me, okay? This is who I am. I'm not going to go in there and pretend to be something I'm not."

"Okay, okay," Gabrielle sighed. "Can't blame me for trying."

Xena smiled. "If you're done primping, we need to go. We're going to be late."

The left their quarters and headed towards the main hall.

As they rounded the small bend in the street and approached the long steps that led up to the golden hall, they found Tyrion and his people, minus Felix, already ascending.

"Hi there!" Gabrielle greeted cheerfully.

The four figures turned to greet them.

"See," Xena said in Gabrielle's ear. "They're in their uniforms."

In point of fact, Tyrion, Silas, Mavon, and Nicolla wore only their boots, pants, gun belts, and light short sleeved shirts. Their jackets, packs and weapons had been left behind.

Gabrielle noted that they each also wore their side arms, in holsters at their hips.

"Well," Silas grinned. "Look at you. You clean up pretty good there, Gabs."

The young bard blushed. "Where's Felix?"

"He's still obsessing about his little project," Nicolla answered.

"But he'll join us later, right?" Gabrielle asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't count on it," Mavon replied. "He really doesn't go in for this sort of thing."

Mavon turned his attention to the noise emanating from the structure ahead.

"On the other hand," he finished with a smile. "This sounds like my kind of party."

Hallas stood at the door, dressed in a simple, clean green tunic, leggings and tough leather boots. His sword hung at his side. His beard and hair had been combed and straightened. He smiled when he saw the others approaching.

"Welcome!" he greeted them cheerfully. That was when they noticed the large wooden mug in his hand. "The merry making is already underway. Please, join the gathering."

He pulled one of the great doors open and ushered them inside.

The king's chamber had been filled with wooden tables and benches. Already there was a large crowd of people making merry within. Voices rose in a chaotic mixture of laughter and song.

The air was thick with a combination of smoke, ale, and various foods.

The entire scene was more akin to a rough tavern than the ordered feasts in Gondor.

"I bet you're glad you dressed up fir this, huh?" Xena whispered in Gabrielle's ear. Gabrielle gave her an icy glance and followed the others off to one side.

Servants moved through the crowded room, offering full tankards of ale.

One of them approached Tyrion and the others. They each accepted a mug and moved to a nearby corner, not unobtrusive, but out of the way.

Xena accepted her mug and took a cautious sip. The stuff was bitter, potent, but not intolerable.

At the far end of the hall, Eomer sat on his throne, his eyes wandering over the gathering. Unlike the others he was entertaining, he himself seemed almost grim.

He accepted a silver mug from a servant and rose, holding the tankard aloft, as if in salute.

The cacophony died down until there was nothing but the occasional cough or furniture creak.

Eomer's eyes moved across everyone in the hall.

"We remember," he said in a clear voice. "We remember the brothers who fell at the Fords of Isen. We remember those who fell on the Wold of Rohan. We remember the fallen Sons of Eol who have found peace while defending our home!"

Gabrielle looked about at all the men in the hall, tall and proud, their eyes gleaming, their chins held high, mugs in their hands, rising slowly to mimic the stature of their king.

The air became tense as a drawn bow.

"Hail the victorious dead!" Eomer called in a clear voice.

"Hail! Hail! Hail!" the voices of the gathered throng shook the timbers of the hall, and vibrated under their feet, sending a tremble through the entire building. Then, in silence all took a long drink from their mugs before any conversation resumed.

Mavon put a finger in his ear and wiggled it gently.

"Wow," he breathed as he tried to clear the sudden ringing in his head.

The feasting went on for hours. Each member of Tyrion's team eventually began mingling with the warriors of Rohan.

Xena found herself deep in conversation with several captains of the Mark, or Marshals as they were called. These made up the council of Eomer.

Gabrielle found Breggolard, seated with several of the men from his company, all engaged in boisterous conversation. He welcomed her graciously and introduced her to the others. It wasn't long before she was deep in conversation with them, exchanging tales of her exploits with Xena. In spite of the attention, her eyes continually drifted to the main doors, half expecting, and half hoping that Felix would join them.

A young warrior of Breggolard's company, a man named Eodein noticed this and smiled.

"You await someone?" he offered. "One who is more dear to you than this loud gathering of soldiers?"

Gabrielle's attention snapped back to the others at the table.

Breggolard smiled and drained his mug, signaling for another. "Perhaps we should fetch this fool for you, Lady?" he offered. "I assume he is closeted within the stranger's vehicle beyond?"

At that suggestion, several of the other men boisterously agreed, and a couple even rose from their seats.

"No!" Gabrielle replied in mild panic.

The men laughed and the more eager ones resumed their seats.

"He's working on something for tomorrow," Gabrielle explained lamely. "I don't want to disturb him."

"To ignore the favor of a lady so fair," Eodein grinned. "I would call him disturbed indeed."

Gabrielle blushed.

"I fear drink and cheer have gotten the better of some of us," Breggolard added with a smile. "Good ale is often more potent than a truthsayer's brew."

Gabrielle smiled sheepishly.

"Yet, I perceive that he is dear to you, perhaps?" Eodein pressed. "Perhaps it is you who should seek him out?"

"Here, here," Another man said, grinning. "The fool should not abandon mirth when the opportunity presents itself!"

Gabrielle looked at the faces of the men around her, unsure of what to say.

A reassuring hand fell gently on her shoulder and she looked up to see Nicolla standing beside her.

"Is she giving you boys a hard time?" She smiled.

Several of the men laughed, and Breggolard, chuckling, shook his head.

"Nay, Lady," he replied. "We hold her body captive with conversation. But we perceive her heart may be elsewhere."

"We merely suggest that she should seek out the rogue who has escaped with her heart in his pocket," Eodein added. "And that he should be punished ten fold for the crime of theft!"

At that the men cheered in agreement.

"Duplicity!" Eodein added. Again another cheer.

"Absence of reason!" Eodein continued. More cheers.

"And lastly, but most importantly, poor manners!"

Them men laughed and banged their empty mugs on the table enthusiastically. A couple of them chanted. "Seek him out!"

Nicolla dropped her head against Gabrielle's shoulder and laughed.

Gabrielle looked over and saw Xena, looking back at her from across the room. She could tell by the initial expression on Xena's face, that her friend had thought someone might be getting a bit too merry, but then she saw the smile on Nicolla's face, and the look of dread on Gabrielle's. She raised a hand and smiled as if to say. "You're on your own with this one."

"Bring him before us, Lady," One of them said more loudly than the others. "We shall teach him proper manners!"

"Nicky?" Gabrielle looked up at the young woman desperately.

"I think they're right, Gabs," Nicolla said. "He's had more than enough time to get his little project done. Let's go get him."

"Indeed! Indeed!" The men cheered. Several of them rose to their feet.

"Ah, ah, ah," Nicolla said sharply. She placed a hand on the nearest man and gently pushed him back into his seat.

"The best man for this job is a woman, boys!" She grinned.

The men laughed.

"Come on, Gabs," Nicolla encouraged. "Go get him. If he gives you any grief, come back and get me."

"He may resist merriment, Lady," Eodein grinned. "You may have needs to force it upon him!"

"Nay, good friends," Breggolard said with a laugh. "You forget to whom you speak! This is Sunmane! If what I beheld on the plains is any telling, she has no need of us!"

"No she doesn't, boys," Nicolla said, grinning. Then she leaned close to Gabrielle's ear. "You better get out of here and go get Felix before they do in spite of you," she whispered quickly.

"I don't think he wants to be here, Nicky," She offered.

"Gabs," Nicolla looked her in the eye. "Go."

Gabrielle looked about the table at the expectant faces, feeling dread knot in her belly.

She stood and took a large drink from her mug before turning and moving towards the door. The shouts and cheers of her little group followed her through the crowd.

"Return with him this night, lady!" Eodein called. "Ere we seek you out on the morrow!"

At that statement, the table erupted in laughter that slowly died when Nicolla turned a steely gaze on Eodein.

"You are all bad, bad men," Nicolla's gaze melted and she smiled. Then she took Gabrielle's vacant seat and claimed a fresh mug.

"And whence do you hail, Lady?" Breggolard asked, his curiosity aroused by Nicolla's protective ferocity in that one gaze. "Do you come from the same mysterious lands as our Sunmane? I sense a bond between you."

Nicolla smiled and shrugged. "We're friends, that's all."

"More like kindred to me," Eodein commented with a smile. He leaned his elbows on the table and looked Nicolla in the eye. "Tell me, Lady; are all the women of your ilk so fierce in battle? Do you have the same steel as our Lady Sunmane?"

Nicolla raised an eyebrow and matched Eodein's gaze. "If I didn't know better, I'd say that was some kind of challenge?"

Breggolard looked back and forth between the two of them and laughed.

"Be wary, friends," he said. "Here, I perceive is a heart forged like to the fabled Mithril of Eriador. Tread softly Eodein, tread softly indeed!"

His work was done, his prosthetic eyes, placed in their small container, charging up for the mission to come. The world was transformed around him to the simple perception of sound, smell, and touch.

In that inky blackness that only true blindness can bring, Felix found that his thoughts were also often sharper, more focused. The images of his memories were clearer in his mind, and he could replay them at will, relishing in the details he drew from the void.

His fingers moved gently over the textured screen of the data pad. It wasn't that his fingers translated the small bumps and depressions into words. It was more like it translated the sensations into the characters in his minds eye, and from there, he read the words on the page. He found the exercise therapeutic when trying to avoid thoughts he wasn't in a mood to deal with.

On this particular night, however, his usual exercise was not serving him like it normally did. The characters of the words in his minds eye kept being obliterated by another image, that of a young, blonde haired bard and the confidences she had shared with him.

His understanding and his desire vied for dominance, as they often did when she was present. He understood, to some very small degree, what she had been through and why her fears were as great as they were. At the same time, the passionate side of his mind argued that her fears could be conquered if he would only give in to his desires.

"That would be the stupidest thing you could do, you nitwit," he chided himself silently. "It's not about what you want. It's about what she is ready for, and she isn't ready for you. Not that way at least. Get over it."

In a twisted sense, he found the dichotomy between his heart and mind fascinating. While both sides of his person understood that he was caught up in his feelings for Gabrielle, it was when he pondered how to nurture those feelings that the two sides of his mind began their debate.

Then, inevitably, the debate would move to something darker - a twisted desire to understand, even in some small way, how a sentient being – any sentient being, could condone the taking of something that was not offered. What type of rationale, sane or insane could justify the forceful taking of the innocence of another, as Gabrielle's innocence had been taken?

In the end, he could never understand it, no matter which approach he tried to take down that path of understanding. It was simply impossible for a creature of moral convictions, such as his, in spite of the training he had received that helped nullify some of them. It simply would never add up. It was wrong, plain and simple. The act, the action, the result were all contrary to the rules of civilized existence. In the end, he was left with the same answer that he always arrived at. The one that made his skin crawl at times.

"It is a twisted fucking universe."

That universe had robbed him of the joy of discovery between himself and another person, had cheated her of her ability to trust, had seeded a fear of intimacy that should never exist between two people.

Sighing, he reached out and felt the edge of the table, then set the data pad down and sat back, rubbing the place where his eyes usually were.

He was suddenly tired. More tired than he could ever remember feeling in his life.

In the two years since he had first met Gabrielle, he had flown with Tyrion and the others for dozens of missions, some mundane, some more intense. He had toyed with the idea of leaving that life for several months, and in the end, he had decided that his mission to Tar Antilles would be his final one. He was going to retire, really retire from the life. Maybe buy a small ship of his own and settle down somewhere. He had even considered sneaking past the boundaries of the Confederation and finding a small unknown world, perhaps even Gabrielle's world, and living out the remainder of his days in solitude and peace, if that even existed anywhere in the universe.

In many ways, it all seemed so hopeless, almost depressing. How does someone who lived amidst the images of war and carnage, truly find peace? Invariably, these internal debates became more and more complex the longer he dwelled upon them, and equally, they became more futile.

"It sucks being a genius," he sighed.

The floor beneath his chair made a subtle shift, and he heard a soft creak in the hydraulics. His nose caught the scent of smoke, ale, and something else. He smiled as he recognized the scent. A floral scent that only one person he knew used.

"Hi there, Gabrielle," He said.

A soft, exasperated breath emanated from the location of the hatch.

"How do you do that?" her voice came back to him.

He smiled. "What can I do for you?"

He heard her come a few steps closer and then the creak of another chair.

"Well," Gabrielle said quietly. "For one, you can stop avoiding me."

"I haven't been avoiding you, Gabrielle," Felix replied.

"Oh no," Gabrielle replied. "When we're in the middle of a fight, or planning a fight, or laying down the plans for a potential fight, or cataloging old parchments."

"Gabs," Felix said.

"Did I do something?" Gabrielle asked. "Since that one night in camp, you've barely been near me, except to plan some grand scheme, and even then, you treat me like I'm not even there?"

"That's not," Felix started. Then he stopped.

"What is it, Felix?" Gabrielle asked. "Was it something I said, or did?"

"No," Felix replied. "Jeez, no, Gabrielle. It's me."

"You?" Gabrielle sounded surprised.

Felix tried to get his thoughts in order, but it was a futile attempt.

"I know what you've been through," he stammered. "Well, I mean, I know what you've told me, though I can't understand the motivations of any being that would condone what happened. I understand, as well as anyone can, but that doesn't change everything I feel, you know?"

"Felix," Gabrielle said evenly. "What are you trying to say?"

"I've never been good at finding a neutral position, okay?" Felix said. "It's either all or nothing with me, usually. But with you, I find myself going back and forth between what I want and what I understand."

"What do you understand, Felix?" Gabriele asked.

"That you need time," Felix replied. "That all the bullshit that happened to you left this huge gaping hole where your heart used to be, and you're just starting to put it back together. I need to let you do that, in your own time, and in your own way. I understand that."

"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "I think you understand better than anyone else, except Xena."

"Maybe," Felix smiled. "But I can't compete with her on this. You guys have been hanging together a little longer than we have."

A soft laugh escaped Gabrielle's lips.

"But what is it that you want from me, Felix?" She asked after a moment.

"You aren't ready for that answer yet," Felix answered quickly.

"Felix," Gabrielle pressed.

"So, what are you doing out here, away from the party?" Felix asked quickly, trying to avoid the question. "Sounds like it's quite a scene up there?"

He could actually hear the smile when she breathed. "Yeah, it's pretty rowdy up there. Nothing like those formal dinners in Minas Tirith. I came down here to ask you if you wanted to come up with me for a while."

Felix sighed and offered a shrug. "I'm afraid I wouldn't be much fun at the moment," he said, gesturing to his face. "Except for when I trip over something, or someone."

He could almost feel her eyes studying him.

"Is that why you do it?" she asked. "Is that why you always hide away, or sit alone when you can't see?"

"It just avoids all kinds of awkward explanations, is all," Felix replied. "Especially here."

"You're afraid," Gabrielle said as realization set in. "Afraid that you won't be able to function without being able to see. Afraid that people will think less of you because you have this, this disability."

He took a deep breath. A denial would be a lie. An admission would be an acceptance that she had hit the nail on the head. He was afraid. Afraid of how he might be perceived, but there was more to it than that.

"You don't trust easily, do you?" Gabrielle finished, uttering his thought aloud.

"Something else we seem to have in common," Felix admitted. In a last ditch effort, he reached for the box holding his eyes. "I can just pop them in for a little while," he began. He felt her hand intercept his.

"If I understand what is going to happen tomorrow," she said. "Those need to stay in there tonight, right?"

"Well," Felix began.

"Right?" Gabrielle repeated.

"Yeah," Felix admitted. "Yeah, you're right."

She stood up, still holding his hand in hers.

"Do you trust me?" She asked.

Now the fear was something palpable in his gut.

"Ah, Gabs, I just," He stammered.

"Do you trust me?" Gabrielle repeated.

There it was, the moment of truth. Should he allow himself to put his faith in someone else, just like all the other strangers in the past who had put their faith in him?

Forcing the writhing snakes in his gut to be calm, he got to his feet.

"I trust you," he said finally. Then a nervous laugh escaped him suddenly. "I guess I trust you more than I trust anyone else."

"Including Mavon?" Gabrielle asked.

"Especially Mavon," Felix replied. "Given the circumstances, he'd steer me to every piece of furniture and uneven floor tile if he were here."

She laughed gently, a truly musical sound in his ears. "Well, he isn't, and I am." She placed his hand upon her arm and guided him towards the hatch.

He felt the cool breeze caress his face as he reached the opening, and he paused, feeling as if he were standing upon the edge of a vast pit. One more step and he would fall for eternity.

"It's just a step down," Gabrielle said, stepping down ahead of him and holding his arm.

Felix felt her arm, his mind worked, and then he stepped forward and down into the abyss. His feet landed solidly on the earth, and he resumed breathing.

"Okay," Gabrielle said softly. "Just stay with me."

She carefully led him across the arrow uneven ground toward the steps leading up to the Hall of Meduseld.

He made the first step without stumbling over it, then the second, and the third, all under Gabrielle's patient guidance.

Suddenly, a laugh burst from him. It was a mixture of pent up anxiety and relief that expelled itself in a burst of air and he felt his fear, like a weight in his belly, suddenly lessen.

"You okay?" She asked him. Again, he could hear her smile.

He was chuckling almost uncontrollably. "I'm great. Just great."

He was doing more than hearing the world around him, he was finally moving through those sounds. He could hear the feasting above and to his left, like a low rumble, emanating from the earth at his feet. Behind him, the gentle sigh of the breeze, moving like a wraith between the buildings. On his right, he perceived the sounds of the feet of the sentries as they paced along the walls and just beneath that…

He stopped short.

Gabrielle turned to him.

"What's the matter?" she asked, seeing the change of expression on his face.

"Sh," he shushed her quickly. "Did you hear that?"

He froze. His very being focused on the errant, alien sound he had heard.

He could feel Gabrielle's arm muscles, tense as she also froze, listening.

"I don't hear anything," she offered.

He held up his other hand, staying her protest.

There it was again, a soft, almost imperceptible thud, like the boots of the sentries, but much deeper, much heavier. Then beneath it, another sound, a sound that reached out from his past and clamped, vise like upon his heart.

"Can you hear that?" he hissed, forcing his fear to the back of his mind. He was a sitting target, and so was she, standing there in the open like that. Why had he agreed to this? They were dead. He could feel the eyes piercing him, choosing the best place to strike.

Gabrielle could feel the anxiety emanating from him. He was one step away from being completely terrified. His body was tense, ready to move despite his inability to see.

Slowly, he turned, focusing his very being on the extraneous sound, while at the same time, putting his body between it, and Gabrielle.

Her hand moved to his shoulder.

"I don't hear anything, Felix," she whispered. "What is it?"

Felix didn't answer, except to make a soft, almost clicking growl in the back of his throat.

At that sound, Gabrielle's eyes widened in horror. There had only been one other time she had perceived a sound like that. Only one time she had felt that sense of dread.

Felix's head dropped as he tried desperately to sort through the background noise and focus on the sounds feeding his terror.

He heard the soft thud of a footfall again, and his head twitched toward it, then another, almost imperceptible clicking hiss, or growl. He felt it, his mind wrapping around the sounds and focusing his body upon it. He corrected his stance a few degrees and looked forward with empty eyes.

"There," he pointed. Gabrielle looked past his shoulder. If she had not known what to look for, she would have missed the slightly amorphous shape as it jumped lightly to the wall, and then vanished over the other side.

It had been vaguely humanoid in shape, though massively built. The world had seemed to be wrapping its image around it, making it nearly invisible, like a ghostly apparition that is perceived and almost as quickly dismissed as a trick of light or shadow.

"I saw it," she breathed.

"Go get the boss," Felix said quickly.

"Okay," she gently pulled his arm, but he stood fast.

"Never mind me," he said sharply. "You go and get the boss! Tell him to come down here, pronto, then you stay in that hall till we come and get you, understand?"

"I can't leave you here, like this," she protested.

"Go!" Felix barked. He pushed her away, severing the sensation of touch that was holding them together. He stood alone in the void, with nothing but blackness surrounding him. Her tentative footsteps back away a couple of paces.

"Dammit, go!" he barked again. "Run!"

Then he sighed with relief as he heard her bolt up the steps towards the doors.

"Go, baby," he whispered. Then he turned his head back towards the sound. He felt the eyes upon him again, watching him.

He slowly removed the glasses covering hi eyes, exposing his disability.

"You prefer males," he whispered to the unseen enemy. "Alpha males, ones with no deformities, no handicaps. You like your victims to have a fighting chance. Well, you won't want me, will you. I can't fight back. I can't offer you any challenge."

There was that soft clicking growl again.

"Run along now, junior," Felix replied. "You can't handle the whole city on your own, can you. And you are on your own, aren't you. That's the way you work."

The menacing presence withdrew, even as he heard the scrambling footsteps approaching from behind him.

A strong hand grasped his arm, confident, reassuring, Tyrion's hand.

"What's going on, Doc?" Tyrion asked.

Felix put the glasses back on his face and smiled. "We have a problem, Chief, a really, really big problem."

Then his head turned slightly from one side to the other. "Where's Gabrielle?"

"She's up in the hall," Tyrion replied. "She's safe."

"The Kajano are here, Chief," Felix said. "They are here, and they know we're here now too."

The air became so tense that breathing was an effort.

"Are you certain, Lieutenant?" Allister's voice asked.

"We had a Tunju here, not two minutes ago," Felix nodded. "Either that, or I'm losing my noodle."

"Are you sure?" Tyrion asked, not daring to believe it.

"It was a Tunju or a Bundi," Felix replied. His voice was shaky. The memories of his past experience were threatening to overwhelm him. "I only know that because I'm still standing here. If it had been a Paldor, it would have made a move!"

"But are you sure?" Tyrion repeated.

"I heard him, Chief!" Felix hissed even as the emotion threatened to explode from him. "I heard the bastard, and Gabs saw him! What more do you fucking want?"

"Okay," Tyrion said soothingly. "Okay." He gave the young man's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay."

"Can someone just take me back to the ship, please?" Felix almost begged. "I just want to sit down, okay?"

Nicolla's small hand gently held his forearm. "Come on, Felix," she offered gently. "I'll take you."

"Captain Sheil?" Allister's voice said again. "Your sidearm, if you please?"

There was the sound of a weapon being drawn.

"Standard search pattern," Allister said. "We go in pairs. Lieutenant Mavonski, with me."

The walk back to the comfort of the Phoenix Fire seemed to take an eternity. Each step was a mile, and the images of his past were like living nightmares, reaching with clawed hands for his very soul. He struggled to keep his emotions from spilling over, and the effort made his limbs leaden. It seemed that even his heart struggled to beat as it thundered in his ears.

Nicolla guided Felix back to his seat inside the ship with the same expert patience that Gabrielle had shown on the way out.

"There you go, Honey," she said calmly. "Do you need anything?"

The images were close to him now, bathed in blood and the screams of comrades long dead.

"Just go away," he croaked, half to the memories, and half to Nicolla.

"Are you sure?"

"Just go!" Felix blurted angrily. He listened as her steps withdrew beyond the hatch. Only when he was certain that she was truly gone, did he finally succumb to the pressure in his chest. Then his head fell forward against the backs of his hands and he wept.

Silas and Tyrion moved along the outside of the wall, their hand torches blazing beams of light on the wall and ground before them, their pistols out and ready. Ten yards behind, Allister and Mavon followed.

The freshly turned earth from the recent repairs aided their search. Tyrion's light came to rest over the impression of a large booted foot.

He looked up at the sentry gazing back down at him in wonder.

"Did you see or hear anything?" Tyrion called up to him. "Anything at all?"

"Nay, My Lord," the sentry replied.

Tyrion scanned the fresh timbers and found four deep indentations, like claw marks on the soft wood.

"Don't tell me he's right," Silas practically begged. "Please don't tell me that!"

"He's right," Tyrion sighed. "This was where he scaled the wall."

Then he called over his shoulder.

"This is the point of access, Colonel! This is where he breached security!"

Silas was cursing elaborately under his breath. "I didn't sign on for us to be tangling with the damn Kajano, Boss!"

Tyrion's expression was grim. "None of us did, Si."

"Do you have confirmation, Master Chief?" Allister asked as he stepped up next to the others.

Tyrion indicated the damage to the wall and the print on the ground. "Yup."

Gabrielle was pacing about the hall, rubbing her hands together nervously.

"Gabrielle," Xena said for the fourth or fifth time. "You need to relax."

"I can't relax!" She shot back impatiently.

Eomer's eyebrow rose at the exchange between the two women.

"It's out there," Gabrielle continued. "Just like the one we ran into during my birthday trip to Andross Island!"*

"Well," Xena tried to keep her concern from showing openly. "Tyrion and his people have a lot more experience than we do with those things, apparently. Just let them do their thing."

"Xena!" Gabrielle stopped short. "You didn't see the look on his face! You didn't feel what I felt when he first heard it! He was terrified, Xena!"

"He was blind," Xena replied. "He was helpless, and he was vulnerable. Of course he would have been nervous. I'd be nervous under those circumstances."

All about the hall, eyes watched the young bard pace nervously. The feasting and merrymaking had come to an abrupt halt when she had stormed in, crying out for Tyrion and his people in a shrill frightened voice.

The idea that someone might have been concealing themselves within the very walls of the city was not sitting well with the King, or any of his men.

"That does it," Gabrielle blurted. "I'm going out there!"

Xena slid between Gabrielle and the doors. "Gabrielle?"

"It is not our custom to allow guests to shoulder the burden of making safe our home," Eomer said from the throne. He turned to his two Marshals.

"Make secure the city," he ordered. "Detail a dozen men to escort the Lady Sunmane to her friend and guard them."

"My Lord," Breggolard nodded.

"Xena," Eomer continued. "Would you deploy your men to augment our own upon the wall, to keep watch?"

Xena nodded. "Of course."

Men took up their weapons and strode out of the hall, heading to various points within the city to commence a search or to take posts along the walls.

Twelve heavily armed men of Breggolard's company surrounded Gabrielle and escorted her down the steps towards the Phoenix Fire.

As they approached, she saw one of the small collapsible chairs lying askew on the floor.

Nothing moved within.

"Something is amiss," One of her escorts stated as they approached. Four of the men, leapt into the ship, weapons ready for a fight.

A few moments later, one of them returned. "Lady," he said in a muted voice. He gestured for her to enter.

A sense of dread bubbled in her middle as she stepped into the ship. She found Felix, seated at the table his sightless eyes locked forward, tears running down his cheeks.

"Felix?"

"You all have no idea how deep the shit has gotten," He muttered quietly in a haunted voice. "Everything's changed now."

"I've seen that before, Felix," Gabrielle said gently. "On an island near my home. What is it?"

Tyrion paced back and forth, ignoring the anxious looks on his companions.

"I don't know much about them," he said, looking up at Eomer, seated on the throne. "Only that they are technologically advanced, centuries ahead of my time, and that they like killing things."

"What do you know of their ways, Master Darquefyre?" Eomer asked.

"That's about it," Tyrion shrugged. "Until twenty years ago, they were thought to be a myth."

"We need to know what their strengths and weaknesses are," Xena said. "How do we beat them in a fight?"

"You don't," A haunted voice answered from near the entrance.

All eyes turned and found Felix, standing with Gabrielle near the entrance. His arm rested on hers as she led him into the chamber proper.

Slowly, Felix began to chant softly:

_A face stone cold, _

_Devil's eyes,_

_They'll tear you out,_

_From the inside,_

_They seek revenge,_

_In a jealous rage_

_Like a time bomb tick,_

_Blow you away._

_Footsteps like thunder,_

_A treacherous reign,_

_Run for your life boys, _

_He must be insane._

_I'm the War Machine,_

_You're the enemy,_

_I'm the War Machine,_

_I'll walk right through you,_

No one moved for a long moment as the echoes of his voice died away. Felix simply waited, letting his words sink in. Finally, he continued.

"You don't fight them, if you can help it," he explained. "If you find out that they're in the same sector as your ship, you change course. If you find out that any of them are heading towards your city, you move out."

Gabrielle paused as the two of them came fully into the light of the fire.

"It was said that Melkor, and later Sauron, created creatures of darkness in their ancient strongholds. The Orcs and the Trolls, Ungoliant the Black, and the Great Worms were all his creations."

"You don't get it!" Felix shot back. "These bad boys weren't 'spawned' by anyone here! They evolved on their own world, in there own way and have become the baddest mother fuckers in the galaxy! Carnage is a casual hobby to these guys!"

"Easy Doc," Silas said calmly.

"Xena," Gabrielle added. "I described what we ran into on Andross a couple years ago, and he told me that it was one of these, um," She paused, trying to remember the word.

"Kajano," Felix finished for her.

"How do you know so much about them, Felix?" Nicolla asked.

"Because I've gone up against them," Felix replied. He pointed to his face. "This was the result of my encounter with the Kajano. This and the loss of my entire unit."

"Kajano," Eomer echoed as if tasting it. "A strange name."

"Actually, that isn't the real name of their species," Felix explained. "It's only a rough translation. The real word is three times as long and impossible to pronounce."

Felix took a deep breath. "What we do know about them is that they are consummate hunters. Their entire culture is based upon it. They live for the hunt, they almost worship it."

Felix leaned closer to Gabrielle and whispered something in her ear. She led him to a nearby bench and let him sit down.

"Thanks," he sighed. Then he focused his attention back to the rest of the room.

"As a race, they have advanced technologically beyond us by at least several centuries in weapons, ships, power sources, etc, etc. By you lovely folks, I'd count the years in millennia. They have proven stealth technology that allows them to cloak themselves from sight. They literally become almost invisible. It seems to be a light bending wave modulation system of some kind that we've never been able to crack. Their weapons tech is based on plasmatic energy. Shoulder mounted, IR targeting plasma cannons, but they don't favor using them."

"They don't?" Mavon asked.

Felix shook his head. "Despite the technological advantage, these boys are traditionalists. They go all in for edged and projectile weapons. Some of the nicer ones are fletchette launchers, razor nets, wrist blades, throwing disks with vibro blade tech. They also have an affinity for pole arms and melee weapons, knives, swords, spears, and the like."

"Oh, swell," Mavon leaned back against a column and sighed.

"Now," Felix went on. "The Kajano are a patriarchal society. Clan elders command individual families, and these families vie against one another, or make alliances with each other based on prestige, power, or mutual benefit. Rarely will a clan war erupt, but when they do, one family is wiped out completely. They rarely spare a victim, and when they do, it is out of mutual respect, not mercy. They don't have words like 'mercy' or 'pity' in their vocabulary."

"What about that one woman on Andross?" Xena asked, looking at Gabrielle. "She saw one of those things up close and it didn't kill her?"

"Was she crippled in any way?" Felix asked. "Deformed, impaired, pregnant?"

"She was pregnant," Xena said.

"That's why she was spared," Felix nodded. "And that's where their theology comes into play. They will not hunt a creature that has no chance to fight back. There has to be something risked in the venture. They hunt only the creatures that have the potential to harm them as much as they can harm their prey. They won't attack anyone impaired, sick, elderly, or considered weak. It just isn't worth their time, and killing a pregnant mother eliminates future prey before it has had a chance to develop."

"How can you be so analytical about it?" Nicolla asked, shivering. "You're talking about people's lives here."

Felix shrugged. "They are the quintessential pragmatists, Nicky. They do what they do because they can. It's what their culture is based on. They look at other sentient beings the way we look at farm animals that we slaughter for food. It's their way."

He shrugged and thought for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"There are three basic specializations. The Tunji, the Bundi, and the Paldor – again, rough translations. Each of the three can work in concert together, or they can function independently. The groups or Cadre's are based on familial experience. They skills are handed down by the patriarchs of the families, with the exception of the Paldor Cadre.

The Tunji Cadre is similar to our Scouts. They tend to go out singly or in pairs. Lightly armored and lightly armed, for them anyway. They tend to scope an area out, collect intelligence, and then return to a main group with that information as a prelude to a strike. They are the least dangerous of these boys.

The Bundi are hunters, plain and simple. If they aren't eating, or making little Kajano, they're out killing stuff. Medium equipment and armor, but still very effective, they also tend to work singly or in pairs at most, only occasionally would a group larger than that assemble, and that would be for a major assault of some kind. It isn't uncommon to find the Bundi and Tunji at odds. They rarely get along."

A strange smile crept across his lips.

"And then there are the Paldor, or, Paldorian Knights, as I like to call them. They're the ones we really need to watch out for. These boys eat, drink, shit, fuck, and piss violence. They are the elite of the elite of the elite of their species. They function in groups of three, called triads. Heavily armed and armored, they have stealth capabilities, but they rarely use it once they've engaged. Only one out of every thousand who try to reach the level of Paldor actually makes it."

"And the other nine hundred and ninety nine?" Nicolla asked.

Felix drew an emphatic hand across his throat. "It is the only time that familial rivalries are set aside. If a member of another Cadre or family decides to join the ranks of the Paldor, they must leave behind any and all family issues. The Paldor are a Cadre among themselves, under the control of the Supreme Patriarch. No one knows how that office is attained or maintained."

"And what did we face on Andross?" Xena asked.

Felix pursed his lips. "Judging by the tactics and the techniques, you were dealing with a Tunji - An experienced one, to be sure, possibly even a Paldor Initiate, but that's just speculation."

"Tunji," Xena repeated. "We were dealing with a scout?"

"Xena," Gabrielle said in horror. "It took Hercules to get him to fly away!"

"Master Felix," Eomer leaned forward, fixing the blind man with an even stare. "How many of these Kajano would it take to over run a garrison of six hundred men?"

Felix considered for a moment. "You are referring to your garrison at Helms Deep, I presume?"

"I am," Eomer replied.

Felix considered a moment more and then nodded as he concluded his internal calculations.

"Ten to twelve," he said simply.

"We could have twelve hundred of those bastards on this rock?" Silas blurted in horror.

Felix smiled a perfectly terrifying smile.

"No, big guy." He said. "Ten to twelve."

"Twelve," Eomer whispered in horror.

"One patriarch, probably two or three Tunji," Felix surmised. "At least one triad of Paldor, maybe two, and the rest, Bundi."

"Twelve men," Eomer sounded as though he could not believe it.

"Well, stop thinking of them as men, for starters," Felix added. "They aren't even remotely human. Think more like an amphibious anthropomorphic crustacean."

"A what?" Silas blurted. "Again with the big words!"

Felix shrugged. "Picture a man about seven to eight feet tall, built like a brick wall, with pale skin, smooth like leather, and spotted like most amphibians. Base color is usually pale white to an almost sickly yellow, with colorations ranging from dark gray to deep green, again, like most semi aquatic amphibians."

Xena gulped as she remembered the creature that she and her friends had battled on Andross Island. The description was identical.

"Now," Felix continued. "They're facial structure consists of external jaws, capable of guiding food in towards a smaller, internal mouth, like most crustaceans. They're omnivorous, and not too picky, so they'll eat just about anything. Cover the whole thing in composite heavy armor, and give it an arsenal of weapons at its disposal." He took a deep breath. "Then, make it invisible."

The world seemed to slow down. For a long time, no one spoke or moved. The only sound was the subtle roaring and crackling of the blaze in the center of the hall.

"We really need to do that recon," Tyrion finally breathed.

39


	7. Chapter 7

_* See the story, Xena and the Terror of Andross Island_

**Chapter 7**

"The greatest leaders of the universe have one thing in common. They each understand the delicate balance between power and diplomacy…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

The night passed with agonizing deliberation. All throughout the city of Edoras, men paced unceasingly along the walls, each one anticipating an attack from this newest, unknown and unseen threat.

The mist rose and undulated over the grasses below, shrouding everything in a soft, pale blanket, and the moon hung silver in the starry sky.

The sounds of the night creatures filled the entire valley with its eerie music. Nothing moved amidst the sea of vapor sliding like a host of apparitions all around them.

Within the city, the smithies were hard at work generating those last few implements of war, or shoeing the horses.

Tyrion and his team moved through the city, aiding the people of Rohan wherever they could. All except Felix, who stayed within the confines of the Phoenix Fire, waiting for the fateful dawn mission.

An hour before dawn, the team, with Xena and Gabrielle, met in the cabin of the ship to discuss the upcoming flight.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Allister began. "The purpose of this flight is for reconnaissance of the surrounding area only. Under no circumstances should this ship engage any target. Since this vessel is our only viable way of returning home, it is considered a non expendable asset. Am I perfectly clear?"

Everyone at the table nodded.

"Very well," Allister nodded. "Master Chief?"

Tyrion stood up, his data pad in hand.

"Okay people," he said heavily. Like the others, he had gotten only a little rest over the night.

"Flight ops team for this is going to be a little different from usual." He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. "Nicky," he resumed. "I'm assigning you to pilot this mission. Like the Colonel said; you hit a problem, any problem, you abort and return to base, understood?"

"Understood," Nicolla nodded.

"Observer is going to be Felix, for obvious reasons," Tyrion went on, looking over at the young blind man. "Since he'll be the only one who can see once we get his eyes running again. Mavon, has Felix instructed you on the necessary technical aspects of the 'surveillance equipment'?"

"No sweat, Chief," Mavon replied. Of all of them, he seemed the least affected by the lack of sleep over the last day. "It's basically a plug and play routine."

Tyrion nodded. "And lastly. Xena and I have discussed this, and since Felix is going to be unable to perform the engineering duties on this one, Xena and Gabrielle have agreed that Gabrielle will take over flight ops and navigation on this mission."

He turned and looked at Gabrielle, seated next to Xena.

"How's your recall of everything Nicky gave you, Gabs?" He asked.

Gabrielle nodded wearily. "I can do it."

"Okay, people," Tyrion nodded. "As to the rest of us, continue what we were doing, maintaining and strengthening the fortifications of the city, just in case."

He put the data pad on the small table and leaned against it heavily.

"One other little wrinkle for the flight team," he said. "With the Kajano in the mix, and within feasible striking distance of this location, the Colonel and I have agreed to one more flight contingency."

He looked at the expectant faces around him. "Should the flight team receive any message from this base, stating that the Kajano have engaged us here, or should anything look fishy upon your return, you three are to bug out and fly straight back to Minas Tirith.

"Now just a God damned minute," Felix began.

"If the Kajano hit us here," Tyrion cut him off. "There is every reason to believe that they will take Edoras. If that happens, someone will need to warn Aragorn of this new danger. They'll need every moment to prepare defenses if it comes down to that. If Edoras falls to the Kajano, you are to stay clear. That is an order."

He sighed and looked down at the data pad again. "Standard circular pattern, taking off from here and heading west to Target One, Helms Deep, from there, turning northeast to Target Two, Isengard. Once Target Two is reached, if you still have observational capability, you will turn northward to Target Three, Dol Guldor. If not, you are to return to base by the most direct route."

Nicolla nodded her understanding.

"Questions?" Allister asked after a brief pause.

No one spoke.

"Very well," He continued. "Secure stations for flight operations. Good luck everyone."

Gabrielle helped Felix to his seat just behind the flight station and got him strapped in.

"You ready for this, Low tech?" Felix asked, trying to sound upbeat.

He felt a kiss on his cheek. "Are you?"

Then he heard Nicolla in the flight couch before him. "Felix is only ready for one thing at all times. He's a man."

"A blind man," Felix countered. "Come over here and let me feel my way around."

"Dream on," Nicolla chuckled.

Felix's com clicked.

"You ready for me to switch on, bro?" Mavon asked.

"Stand by," Felix replied. "Let's see if the teller and her evil twin here can remember how to start the engines."

Nicolla looked back at him and then at Gabrielle with a smile.

"Gabs?" she asked expectantly.

Gabrielle seemed to go into a semi trance as the memories learned from Nicolla's mind came to the fore.

"All set," she said. "Go ahead and start on one."

Nicolla transferred the power and felt the left side engine begin to whine up to life.

"Spooling one," she reported. "How's it look, Gabby?"

"In the green," Gabrielle replied. "Go ahead on two."

"Spooling two," Nicolla nodded.

Felix tapped his com. "Okay, Mave, they figured out how to start it. Go ahead and give me eyes."

A few moments later Felix flinched as the brilliant light of the pale dawn appeared before him. It shook and jostled like he was in the middle of the worst earthquake ever recorded.

"Yo Mave!" Felix protested. "Take it easy will you? I don't want to get motion sick before we're even flying!"

"Nag, nag, nag," Mavon replied. Suddenly the image stabilized with a final jolt and remained still, then the second part of his vision returned with equal discomfort, and once that was in place, he could see.

Mavon's grinning face appeared in his line of sight, and then his partner's right middle finger rose into view.

"Can you see that?" he asked with a grin.

"Five by five," Felix replied. "Oh, and fuck you too, by the way."

"You'd love to," Mavon replied. "Have a nice trip."

Nicolla looked out at Tyrion standing twenty feet past the bow of the ship. He looked to his left, and then his right, as Mavon jogged clear of the ship. Then he gave Nicolla a salute and motioned upward with both arms.

Nicolla fed the power to the engines and the ship lifted gracefully off the ground. Once they were fifty feet up, the ship began coasting forward.

"We're clear," Nicolla reported.

"Whoa," Felix breathed as the landscape began moving 'beneath' him. "This is different."

"Is it working?" Gabrielle asked.

"Yeah," Felix nodded. "It's just weird not to be able to turn my head and look around from this vantage point."

Gabrielle checked her board. "Set heading two seven two, Nicky."

"Got it," Nicolla made a few quick adjustments and the ship banked lazily in the indicated direction. Then she looked back over her shoulder at the young bard and grinned. "You do remember."

Gabrielle smiled a bit sheepishly and shrugged. "I don't 'remember', remember," she explained. "But if I just sit still and try not to think about it, it comes to me all by itself."

"Going to five thousand feet," Nicolla reported and the ground fell away beneath Felix's feet.

The ship passed in and out of the clouds as it flew towards the fortress of Helms Deep.

About ten minutes later, Nicolla began bringing the ship down.

"Two minutes," she reported. "Scanners show a large rock formation, matching the description of the valley we're looking for."

"What's the height of the valley walls?" Felix asked.

"About fifteen hundred feet," Gabrielle answered.

"Take us down to sixteen hundred feet," Felix offered. "And come right down the middle of the open end of the valley."

"You got it," Nicolla replied. She banked the ship in the indicated direction.

Felix heard the sound of a soft beep from the pilots couch.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Just arming the cannons, if we need them," Nicolla replied.

"No!" Felix all but shouted. "Come in completely cold."

"Felix," Nicolla started.

"If they are down there, and they pick up a trace of an armed ship, they will engage us. Shut it down. Shut down everything, including scanners!"

Nicolla looked up at Gabrielle. The two of them exchanged an uncertain look.

"Dammit girls!" Felix all but shouted this time. "Just trust me, will you? I know these goons!"

Gabrielle saw the earnest expression on Felix's face. Then she looked down at Nicolla and nodded.

Sighing, Nicolla disengaged the weapons and targeting systems.

"Okay, honey. But if we crash, I'm going to blame you."

"Fine," Felix breathed a sigh of relief and focused his attention to the images emerging from the clouds beneath the ship.

As they dropped beneath the low clouds, Felix began to see the formations and battlements of the fortress, nestled in the furthermost crevice of the valley.

Smoke was still rising from several points within and outside the walls of the fort.

"I have smoke," Felix called. "Slow it down a little."

Nicolla throttled back and transferred more of the engine power to the anterior thrusters, placing them in a semi hover mode.

Felix's empty sockets twitched slightly as he invoked the mechanical options of his prosthetics, and the image zoomed in a quick series of shots, like blinking.

A massive hole had been blown through the outer most walls, the outer gates, and the inner keep. All along the walls within the keep, bodies hung, skinned and glistening in the morning light, swaying in the wind. The narrow streets within the keep were still stained a dark crimson in many places.

"Fuck me," Felix gasped in horror. He changed the polarity of his vision to various spectrums.

"I have bodies," he reported. "Lots and lots of bodies, but no sign of any." He stopped as he caught a subtle shift in the scenery below. The vague, amorphous shape moving slowly along the battered wall. Then he spied a second, and a third, all shifting positions with slow deliberation. They were moving to get them into a triangulated crossfire. Then he saw the fourth and fifth shapes leaping from point to point, moving to the higher positions on the inner tower walls.

"I count five so far," he choked. "Son of a bitch. No, six."

"What are they doing?" Nicolla asked.

"Waiting," Felix replied.

"For what?" Gabrielle asked.

"For us to make a move, or show any signs of being armed." Felix nodded.

Suddenly, a single massive figure shimmered into plain sight, covered in dark armor. It held a long pole arm in its clawed hand, and the steel gray faceplate stared up at them with flashing yellow eyes. Then Felix caught the subtle hint of red as the laser pointer on the shoulder matched the creatures gaze, fixing on the bottom of the ship.

"Paldor," Felix breathed. Then the rising panic found its way to his voice. "Break! Break! Break!"

The Phoenix vaulted higher into the clouds, even as the pale blue plasma blast screamed past the spot where they had been just a moment before.

The ship turned on its back and then rocketed away from the site, heading to the next target on their mission. Felix was cursing elaborately.

"That means at least nine," he finally managed to say when the curses had exhausted themselves. "The Paldor are the only ones that expose themselves like that before engaging. None of the other five did that, so they weren't Paldor!"

"How much time do we have left, Felix?" Gabrielle asked.

"About two hours," Felix replied. "We're gonna have to push it if we want to check out that third location." His voice dropped off as the ship coasted through a gap in the clouds.

"Take her down!" He barked.

"What?" both Gabrielle and Nicolla answered in surprise.

"Down to one thousand feet, back about fifty miles! I saw something!" Felix reported.

Nicolla wheeled the ship over and dove for the surface.

As the ship neared the surface, Felix began cursing afresh. Below them he could see several clusters of objects resolving to the tell tale signs of troop formations. There were two primary groups, one coming together as it moved from the west, away from the stronghold of Helms Deep, the second, much larger formation was more organized, and moving steadily from the north.

"Get me as high as you can before the clouds obscure my sight," Felix asked.

Nicolla throttled up and the ship drifted closer to the low lying clouds.

"We're burning power here, Felix," she reminded him dutifully.

"I know," Felix replied. He focused his sight on the main column. They were large, dark skinned or perhaps furred bipeds, with swarthy faces and evil yellow eyes. Their bodies were covered in rough forged steel plates. They marched in rank after rank of pike men, bowmen, swordsmen, and several other larger ones that had to be herded together and driven with whips. Those few lashed out at anything too close to them, bellowing and screaming with mouths open wide, showing large fangs.

"What the hell are they?" Felix asked. "Hey Nicky, swing to port about sixty degrees."

"Got it," Nicolla replied. She turned the bow of the ship in the indicated direction.

"Right there!" Felix called out. He focused on the second group and a strange smile began to appear on his face.

"Got more than you clowns bargained for, didn't you?" He asked the open air.

The second group of Orcs was less organized, and showed signs of having recently been in a fierce battle. There was no walking wounded among them, save the occasional bandaged head or limb. No stretchers or carts accompanied the second group.

"What's our distance from Edoras?" Felix called out.

Nicolla reached for the location transponder, but Gabrielle was quicker.

"We are fifty seven miles northwest of Edoras," she reported.

"Sixty miles," Felix echoed. "Get Xena on the coms, please."

A few moments later, Xena's voice came through the coms in Felix's ear.

"Yes?"

"Hey, quick question," Felix asked as he watched the two groups merging below. "How fast would an army of about five to six thousand be able to cover a distance of sixty miles?"

"Why?" Xena asked.

"Cause that's about how long you got before these boys will be knocking at your door," Felix replied.

"We have a large formation of ground troops mustering at our current location, Xena," Nicolla added. "It may take a few hours for them to get organized. Seems to be two separate companies coming together but their main force was already heading your way when we found them."

"Twenty miles," Xena said after a moment. "About twenty miles a day would keep a group that large rested enough to handle a fight if they needed to."

"So you got about three days," Felix said.

"Why not drop a couple LG's on them and slow them down?"

No one spoke for a long moment. Then Nicolla looked back over her shoulder at Gabrielle in surprise.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked when she finally found her voice.

Gabrielle looked at Nicolla and Felix.

"What?" she asked.

"Do you know what you just suggested?" Felix asked.

"Gabs?" Nicolla asked. "What's going through your mind right now?"

Gabrielle looked at Nicolla and then dawning appeared in her face.

"It's not that I want to do that," she explained, and her voice took on a heavier note to it. "I just know what's going to happen, and…" She shrugged. "Look, Xena always told me to explore every option, even the ones I don't like. I don't agree with that option, but it is an option."

"I just never expected to hear that option from you," Felix said with a wry grin.

"Me neither," Xena said over the open channel. Her voice had dropped just enough to be laced with suspicion.

"Captain Sheil," another voice entered the conversation. "This is Colonel Kleegan. You're use of ordinance is not authorized! I repeat, use of ordinance is not authorized! Proceed to next target immediately."

"Understood," Nicolla replied dutifully. The ship turned and then moved off towards the rising mountains in the north. "Leaving coordinates. E.T.A. to target, fifty eight minutes."

Felix smiled as the world spun beneath his eyes. "Plenty of time."

"Also," he added quickly. "Helms Deep has been occupied. I can confirm six, I repeat, six of the Kajano present at the site. Severe damage to perimeter defenses and interior structures, including what appear to be plasma impacts at strategic sites in and around the location. Helms Deep is now a hostile theater. I say again, Helms Deep is a hostile theater."

Allister's voice was tight. "Confirmed, Lieutenant. Continue with the mission."

Gabrielle focused on her instrument board, her mind drifting back to that doomed birthday retreat two years prior. The calculated brutality and efficiency of the creature they had been obliged to track had terrified everyone in the group, including Hercules.

In the end, they had managed to drive the creature away, but only after all except Hercules had sustained grievous wounds. Their two week vacation became a month long convalescence as they healed from their wounds.

"Coming up on Target Two," Nicolla reported dutifully.

Gabrielle blinked. She looked over at Felix, sitting motionless, his finger thoughtfully tapping the arm of the flight couch.

"Felix?" Gabrielle asked.

"Hm?" Felix started slightly. "Oh, sorry. Just thinking."

He sat up straighter in the seat.

"Dropping below the cloud layer," Nicolla continued as she throttled down and let gravity pull them towards the surface.

The clouds vanished and Felix saw the stronghold below, nestled in a shallow valley, surrounded on three sides by jagged mountains.

"Now that is interesting," he said thought fully.

Isengard was a vale, like a shallow bowl, nestled in the edge of the mountains. At the center of the bowl was the single dark spire of Orthanc, rising tall and proud. A thick wall curved smoothly around the place at the edge of the valley and orchards and gardens spread out amongst small houses within the walls. At the rear of the complex, smoke could be seen rising in thin wisps, ostensibly from the smithies.

Sentries walked posts or stood vigil along the wall, while others moved back and forth along well groomed paths traversing, like spider webs around the foundations of the tower.

A single, wide avenue traveled from the only gate straight through the orchards, to the stairs which rose to the entrance of the tower.

"Hey Nicky," Felix asked. "Whip around so you can see this, and tell me if I'm going nuts, but does that entire formation down there look like an old impact crater?"

The ship wheeled and twisted slightly, circling at a steep angle so Nicolla could look down upon the site below.

"It's concentric," she agreed.

"Look at the wall encircling the grounds," Felix instructed. "I'm betting that's the edge of the crater, and they built the wall along the outer ring of the impact zone. It's not consistent with any of the surrounding geographical features."

Nicolla nodded. "I see what you're saying."

"And the tower is smack dab in the center of that formation," he continued. "Almost like hitting the center mark on a jiggits board."

Nicolla nodded. The comparison to the recreational game was accurate.

"What's the garrison strength?" she asked.

The ship slowed to a hover and turned gently so Felix could see the entire complex.

"Not too shabby," he said after a few minutes. "Probably got anywhere from a thousand to fifteen hundred down there. Funny thing is, they ain't Orcs."

"They aren't?" Gabrielle asked in surprise.

"Nope," Felix shook his head. "They're human, all of them. And they look like the same guys we're helping back in the city. Maybe the attacks aren't originating from here?"

"They look like people from Rohan?" Gabrielle asked.

"Looks like," Felix nodded. "I don't see any sign of the uglies we've been fighting. They may have simply cut off the communication lines between us and them?"

Something twisted in Gabrielle's gut. A vague sense of dread that had no root in what they were seeing.

"Coms, please," Felix requested. Gabrielle engaged the channel.

"Phoenix to base," Felix called.

The crisp voice of the Colonel replied instantly. "Go ahead, Phoenix."

"Colonel," Felix reported. "We are currently holding station over target two, and we see no sign of hostiles on the premises."

"Can you confirm that, Lieutenant?" Allister asked.

"Not without going own there and asking them, sir," Felix replied. "However, my observation shows a friendly outpost on high alert."

Even as he said it, something moved from within the compound.

"Check that," he said quickly. "We have formation movement below. Stand by."

"Nicky," he continued. "Turn about forty degrees to starboard, ahead slow."

The ship moved smoothly and Felix began to see more figures, emerging from the concealment of the trees, dark skinned and armed.

"Colonel," Felix reported after a few moments. "Belay my last report. I have a third company of hostiles exiting the Isengard position, heading southward at double pace. Looks like a reserve company for the coming engagement."

"Can you estimate troop strength, Lieutenant?" The Colonel asked.

Felix considered for a moment. "Between five and seven hundred, sir. Isengard is also a hostile theater. They're just pretending they aren't."

Xena sighed heavily and looked back over her shoulder at Eomer, pacing near the open fireplace.

"There's an army, three days march north of here, coming this way. Five to six thousand, including reserves." She reported.

Eomer's eyes widened in horror. "We have not the strength to repel a force as large as that! Not within the wooden walls of Edoras!"

"Well, we may not have a choice," Xena replied.

"In the past, we would draw our enemy, with battle, towards our fastness at Helms Deep." Eomer said.

"That isn't an option, sir," Tyrion replied. "Your fortress is in the hands of the Kajano. Any fight will have to happen here."

The horror and despair in Eomer's eyes faded to something more determined. He nodded. "Very well. If this is where we must make our stand, then here, we shall fight."

He began striding towards the entrance of the hall. "Summon my captains!" he ordered.

"Xena," he continued. "You say that the host is three days march away, yes?"

"Correct," Xena nodded.

"Then we have little more than a day, I fear," Eomer explained. "For orcs can move with great speed, and they do not tire. We must seek to delay our enemy. We must keep him from our walls for as long as possible."

Breggolard strode quickly in through the doors. "My Lord?" he asked.

"Make ready to ride, Captain," Eomer ordered. "Muster a force of two thousand on horse for a sortie against our foes."

"As you wish, My Lord," Breggolard bowed his head.

Eomer turned to Argoman. "You shall continue with the management of our defenses here, old friend."

"As you wish, My Lord," The second captain nodded.

"Excuse me, Eomer," Xena asked. "But what are you planning?"

"I shall ride with the men against our enemy," Eomer stated.

"I wouldn't advise that, sir," Tyrion suggested. "You should remain here where you can be protected."

Eomer stopped in his tracks and turned to face them, his eyes filled with fury.

"You have come as friends, and brought many wonders with you. You know much of war and weapons," his voice was a growl, like a predatory animal. "Yet with all your wonders, you know nothing!"

"Your Majesty," Xena began.

"The rule and protection of Rohan is my charge!" Eomer stated. "Mine, as it was of Théoden before me, and Thengil, before him, all the way back to Eol the Young! Always have our leaders ridden forth into battle in the defense of the lands given us by the Kings of Old, and I shall not be the first to cower behind wooden walls while my people fight afield!"

Tyrion held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay. At least, let my people come with you. Our weapons can serve to protect you better than most."

"Can your magical weapons protect the entire host?" Eomer asked evenly.

"No sir," Tyrion replied.

"Then remain and defend my people, Master Tyrion," Eomer replied. "For that is where your strengths lay."

He turned back towards the door.

"Eomer," Xena said quickly.

"Lady?"

Xena drew her sword. "I believe this can work in the field as well as here?"

Eomer smiled grimly. "As do I, lady. Is it your wish then, to ride with the host against our enemy?"

"It is," Xena replied.

Eomer nodded his head. "Very well."

He turned and strode out of the hall.

Xena smiled hungrily, in spite of herself. She turned and looked back at Tyrion.

The old soldier's expression was dubious.

"You realize this is a bad idea, right?" Tyrion asked. "You're going to be outnumbered three or four to one."

"Oh?" Xena asked, tapping the coms unit resting against her cheek.

Tyrion's expression changed to one of appreciation. "Pretty slick, there Xe."

"Just be ready to fly in to our rescue when I call," Xena nodded. "If this goes the way I expect, we'll need your help evacuating the wounded, and maybe more."

"You'll have it," Tyrion nodded.

Felix straightened in his seat suddenly. "What the fuck?"

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked.

The Phoenix was circling lower towards the fortress of Isengard as they continued their survey of the site.

The images flickered and went dark several more times.

"I'm losing visual," Felix said. "What's the time?"

Gabrielle looked at her board and frowned. "Two hours, ten minutes, why?"

Felix frowned. "I should have at least forty more minutes before they start failing."

He leaned forward. "Nicky, quick, move to a lateral position, so I can get a visual on the profile of the tower."

The ship coasted away and down until Felix got a good look at the structure from the side. The ship vibrated slightly as it circled at the odd angle.

Felix growled in frustration as he tried to make out details. Then there was a flash of white and his vision was gone.

"Son of a bitch!" He blurted. "That's it. We're done."

"Okay," Nicolla replied. She banked the ship around and steered a course south towards Edoras.

"Phoenix to base," Nicolla called. "Recon complete, returning to Edoras."

"Understood, Phoenix," Tyrion's voice replied. "Upon return, commence reorg for medical evacuation actions."

Nicolla and Gabrielle exchanged a concerned glance.

"All good, sir?" Nicolla asked.

Quickly, Tyrion outlined Eomer's planned counter the coming assault.

"That's crazy!" Gabrielle protested. "I mean, I'm no expert, but they have to know they're not going to win!"

"Hey, Gabs," Tyrion replied. "We're guests here, remember? They can do what they want."

"And Xena agreed to go with them!" Gabrielle shot back. "You know she's not up for this Tyrion! Why did you let her?"

"Chief," Felix said quickly. "Message received and understood. Returning to base as ordered."

"Roger that," Tyrion acknowledged.

He drew a hand across his throat, signifying that Nicolla should cut the channel.

Frowning, Nicolla did as instructed.

"Now," Felix said tightly. "Set a new heading due west."

"West?" Nicolla repeated. "But that will take us straight to…"

"I know," Felix said. "I have an idea."

Gabrielle could see by the expression on Felix's face that he was thinking furiously.

"Any idea that starts with us heading towards a Kajano stronghold is a bad idea, Felix!" Nicolla shot back.

"Just trust me," Felix replied.

"I am not going into a Kajano stronghold with a rookie and a blind moron!" Nicolla said angrily. Then she offered Gabrielle a small shrug. "No offense."

"None taken," Gabrielle replied.

"Captain Sheil!" Felix barked with sudden authority. "You will set course for Helms Deep and you will do it now! That is a direct fucking order!"

Nicolla looked back at Felix in shock. Gabrielle had a similar expression.

"You're pulling rank on me?" She asked angrily. "Have you gone completely thermal?"

"Felix," Gabrielle started.

"Shut up!" Felix barked. "Captain, turn this ship and turn it now!"

"I am not taking this ship," Nicolla began again.

Suddenly, Felix's gun was in his hand and pointed forward.

Nicolla's eyes went wide in horror and Gabrielle froze.

"God dammit Captain, you will set that course and you will set it now or so help me fuck I will start blowing holes in the entire flight deck!"

Gabrielle looked down at Felix, her mind whirling. He was blind and desperate, his finger resting on the barrel just above the trigger. If she could get up beside him, she might be able to get the weapon from his hand before he could react. Nicolla saw the calculation, or perhaps she even heard the young bard's thoughts.

"Lieutenant," Nicolla said with forced calm.

Felix's thumb disengaged the safety on the pistol with an ominous click.

"We're on a tight clock here, Captain, and I don't feel this crate turning!"

Gabrielle took a single step out from behind the console, only to have Felix's other hand rise and he pointed right at her.

"Don't you fucking move!" He warned. His forefinger settled on the trigger.

"Nicky," he growled. "It would be a crying shame if I had to start plugging away in here! Turn the god damned ship!"

Gabrielle held her breath and looked at Nicolla, her eyes wide.

Nicolla looked back at her, and then at Felix.

She gave Gabrielle a nod, and she stepped back behind the console.

"Okay Felix," Nicolla said icily. "Safety that weapon and I'll turn the ship."

Felix's thumb pressed the safety switch and his finger slid off the trigger.

Reluctantly, Nicolla banked the ship in the desired direction.

"I'm trying to save lives here, ladies," Felix said more softly.

Nicolla was furious. She settled the ship on the new heading.

"E.T.A., twenty minutes." She reported.

Felix holstered his weapon and sat back.

"Land a half click away from the main gate," he said evenly. "Come in cold, no weapons or sensors. Maintain absolute radio silence."

"Uh huh," Nicolla replied.

They approached the valley, dropping from the clouds and slowing as they neared their proposed landing site.

"Low and slow," Felix instructed. "When you set her down, keep the engines at low idle."

The smoking ruin of Helms Deep was clearly visible, rising like a dark shadow against the lighter gray of the cliffs beyond.

Felix released his harness and stood, shrugging out of his TAC vest.

"Gabs," He said. "I need you to walk me towards the fortress."

"What?" Both girls exclaimed in disbelief.

The protective armor vest fell to the deck with a thud. "I need you to walk me towards the fortress." He repeated.

"This is a bad idea, Felix," Nicolla offered.

"Gabs!" Felix barked.

Reluctantly, Gabrielle led the blind man towards the main cabin.

"If we aren't back in an hour," Felix said to Nicolla. "Then get back to Edoras and let them know that we weren't able to secure any assistance."

"Assistance?" Nicolla blurted. "From the Kajano? You have gone thermal! They'll kill you the second they see you!"

"No they won't," Felix replied. "If I understand them right, Gabs and I got an in." He turned towards Gabrielle. "Come on, Gabs."

They moved carefully into the main cabin. Once there, Felix holstered his pistol and let his gun belt drop to the deck.

He reached up and let his hand settle on Gabrielle's shoulder, feeling the tough leather armor.

"Lose the armor, and anything that could be considered a weapon." He said.

Reluctantly, Gabrielle complied.

"I could just restrain you," Gabrielle said. "Right now."

Felix smiled. "But you won't. You know that this is the only chance we have to win this and save Xena's life."

He heard the heavy leather chest plate fall to the deck, followed by several other, smaller items.

Gabrielle stood before him, now dressed only in a simple tunic, breeches, and boots.

Felix reached out and gently removed the coms earpiece from her ear. Then he tapped his.

"Pop the hatch, Nicky," he said. "And seal it once we're outside. Don't open it unless we come walking back, understood?"

The hatch hissed open and Felix felt the cool wind on his face.

They stepped out onto the grassy earth and began moving slowly towards the soldering ruins of Helms Deep.

As they moved past the front of the ship, the damp scent of the grass was replaced by the acrid odor of smoke and death wafting across the field from the carnage of Helms Deep.

Gabrielle paused for a moment and put a hand to her lips. She remembered that stench from her trip to Andross Island. She knew what she would see when they reached that place.

They began climbing up a gentle rise that led to the base of a low dike stretching across the valley between them and the outer wall of the fortress.

"Why are you doing this?" Gabrielle asked nervously. "You know they'll kill us the second they can see us."

"I'm betting they won't," Felix replied. "They only like armed and healthy prey. We're neither."

Felix's left foot dropped into a depression in the grass and the two of them stumbled slightly.

"Oops," Felix smiled.

"So, why are we here?" Gabrielle asked.

"Trying to kill two birds with one stone." Felix whispered. "Get the Kajano to help with the attack, and also steer them away from Edoras."

"Ah," Gabrielle smiled. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"

Felix shrugged. "More like, 'the enemy of my enemy is still likely to be my enemy and kill me just because they can, but it's worth a shot, sort of thing'."

"Well," Gabrielle sighed. "That's really reassuring."

"If anything happens," Felix added. "You run for the ship. Don't look back, okay?"

"No," Gabrielle replied. "I did that once. Never again."

"Gabby," Felix protested.

"What makes you think that these Kajano will even consider helping us?" Gabrielle asked quickly.

"It's a hunch," Felix replied.

Suddenly, he felt Gabrielle jerk him to a stop.

They stood at the base of the dike, about half way between the ship and the broken gate of Helms Deep.

Gabrielle's eyes were fixed on the three amorphous shapes standing at the top of the dike. Yellow eyes flashed as they locked on the two travelers.

"Uh, Felix?" Gabrielle whispered. "They're here."

Felix went stiff as the ominous clicking growl echoed before him. Gently, he moved Gabrielle behind hind him, shielding her with his body.

"Hi fellas," He said slowly. "We need to talk."

The three figures materialized before them, tall, powerfully built, and menacing. The gray face plates were like variations of stage masks, displaying grotesque countenances.

Oily black tendrils framed the emotionless steel like thick braids of dark hair.

The central figure was taller than the others, with pale gray skin. The tendrils on its head were nearly gray, instead of black.

In one clawed hand it held a long, trident of bronze colored metal. Other weapons hung from bits of armor affixed to the skin, and a small shoulder mounted cannon swiveled to point at them when it looked in their direction.

This one was obviously older than the two others flanking him.

The one to the right was only a little shorter, but more powerfully built, covered in dark armor and bristling with weapons. It stood in a semi crouch, as if he were eager to leap down upon them.

Gabrielle noticed that this one also had several items adorning its armor. Pieces of other armor, bones, and weapons that seemed not to fit the style of those the creature held. Her eyes went wide when she spied a small colored patch on a ragged piece of cloth, hanging near the creatures left breast. She recognized it as a military insignia, different from the ones that Tyrion's people wore, but definitely part of the same culture.

The third Kajano was lightly armed. It was mostly unclothed from the waist up, with armor covering his left arm, up to the shoulder.

On its right wrist was a thick bracer that covered the entire forearm. The points of two wicked looking blades could be seen protruding from a box like attachment just above the top of the right hand.

As Gabrielle studied this one, her eyes fell upon the myriad of scars decorating the flesh of the beast. There was a single, ugly wound in the center of the belly, and several more in the region of the chest and side. Her eyes went wide in recognition.

The third creature, likewise, seemed to stiffen slightly and fix on her even as Felix gently moved to stand before her, shielding her.

All three of the creatures had bones and other small trophies adorning their armor in grotesque displays, but this one had considerably more of the grotesque trophies adorning its coverings.

"Um, Felix?" Gabrielle whispered. "The one on the right. I think I know him?"

"That's what I thought," Felix whispered back.

Suddenly, the creature on the left crouched even lower.

"_Mother fucker,"_ It growled in a deep, inhuman voice. It was fixed on Felix, eyeing him like a hungry animal.

"Gabrielle," Felix whispered. "Does that one have anything with an insignia that reads two eight one?"

Gabrielle looked at the armored creature, obviously a Paldorian Knight, as Felix had dubbed them. The insignia hanging from its armor did indeed have the numbers two, eight, one in the center of a dirty blue field.

"Yes," She whispered. "What is two, eight, one?"

"My old unit," Felix nodded, fighting his anger back down. "That one was at Mintaka Drift. He was one of the ones that we fought against."

"_Gabrielle,"_ the third Kajano grated. _"What are you supposed to be!"_

Those had been Hercules words when the creature had removed its face plate and exposed the hideous countenance beneath.

"And I can assume that's the one that you went up against on your world?" Felix finished.

Gabrielle gulped down her horror as the full recognition settled in.

"Gabs," Felix whispered. "Describe them to me, please? I can't see, remember?"

"Sorry," Gabrielle whispered. Quickly she outlined the appearance of the three creatures before them.

She felt Felix stiffen as she described the Paldor.

"I know you can emulate our language," Felix said to the three creatures before him. "Do you understand me, though?"

The three masked faces fixed on them for a moment, and then the central figure nodded his head once.

"He can," Gabrielle whispered.

Felix slowly reached into the pocket of his shirt. He heard the plasma cannon swivel in his direction.

"Easy, easy!" he hissed. "Just ease back fellas."

Slowly, he drew out the enigmatic red gemstone that each of them possessed, and he held it up for the three creatures to see.

Gabrielle watched in surprise as the three expressionless faceplates turned to one another and then fixed back upon them.

"That's got their attention," she whispered in his ear.

"I thought it might," he nodded.

Then he turned his attention back to the three Kajano.

"I assume each of your people has one of these as well?" He asked slowly.

Again the central figure nodded his head.

"We're being used," Felix said evenly. "Whoever or whatever gave us these stones also arranged for us to find our way here."

The three creatures were perfectly still. The central one, the Elder, let a low clicking growl issue from behind his mask.

"And we are each connected in some other way," Felix went on. "I assume one of you knows me?"

The Elder turned its head and looked at the black armored Paldor beside him. That creature nodded once.

"Yes," Gabrielle said.

"And one of you knows my companion?" Felix continued.

The lightly clad Tunji fixed its glowing eyes upon Gabrielle and nodded.

"_Yessssss!"_ it grated.

The Elder looked between the two creatures flanking him and then back at the two humans.

"These two are your children, Elder?" Felix asked.

The Elder nodded.

"Yes," Gabrielle whispered.

"Then we definitely need to talk," Felix said evenly.

The Elder looked from one to the other, and then raised his clawed hand in a gesture of dismissal.

The two younger creatures turned and melted from view as they strode away.

The long trident compacted with a series of metallic clangs before the Elder slid it into a long carrying holster hanging from his left hip. He strode down the rise towards them.

"Oh gods," Gabrielle breathed as terror rose in her belly. "He's coming toward us."

She saw the large gauntlets on either forearm, each containing the wicked dual blades that had rent Xena so viciously in their previous encounter. At either side of the belt, long wicked swords hung in battered sheaths, and a row of curved blades hung from a bandolier across the right shoulder. The powerful chest was covered in a garment that seemed woven like a fish net, adorned with bones and other items that she dare not guess. Gleaming skulls rattled and jostled with each powerful stride.

A single clawed hand rose and disconnected the two hoses feeding into the mask, and they heard the ominous his of escaping gasses. Then the hand pulled the plate away, and the true face of the creature was revealed.

"Felix," Gabrielle slid slowly back a step.

The young soldier moved slowly to more fully block Gabrielle with his body. His hand moved back to clasp hers protectively.

The creature stared down at them with fierce, inhuman red eyes. The flesh was pale, almost white, and mottled with age. Dark splotches of color marked the creature's cheeks and forehead. The outer mandibles flexed a few times, and Gabrielle saw the inner mouth, filled with needle teeth.

It stopped before the two of them, towering over them like an alien monolith, its clawed hands flexing.

Then it reached into a small pouch hanging amongst the various grisly trophies and drew in identical red stone out, holding it between his two fingers.

"_We neeeed to talk!"_ He growled. The hot breath drifted over them, and Gabrielle winced at the sound of the harsh voice.

Felix felt Gabrielle's fingers biting into his shoulder.

"Okay," he replied. He slipped the red gemstone back into his pocket. "Introductions first. I'm Felix, and this is Gabrielle."

"Hi," Gabrielle squeaked.

The red eyes considered them for a moment.

"_Korrrrrballl,"_ it said, placing a hand upon its chest.

"Korbal," Felix nodded. "Well, I guess the best place to start is to say thanks for not killing us." He let a nervous laugh escape.

Korbal growled.

Felix gulped. "Look, I'm not a hundred percent sure that we're going to walk away from this in one piece, okay," he said to the creature. "It's a little unnerving."

Korbal looked at Felix, then at Gabrielle.

"_Follow!"_ he grated, and he turned and marched up the wall of the dike.

Gabrielle led Felix up to the top of the small rise and then froze in horror when they crested the low hill.

Between the dike and the gates of the fortress was a wide, flat field. Throughout the field lay corpses, hundreds of corpses all in various states of dismemberment. The ground was stained dark, and black blood settled in oily pools at various points.

The bodies were the remains of an Orc host. Their armor and weapons were scattered about the field. Carrion birds circled overhead, and the stench that had been mostly deflected by the wall of the dike now wafted over them with its charred bittersweet odor.

"Oh gods," Gabrielle choked, turning her eyes away from the sight and covering her mouth as the gorge threatened to rise. "It's more of the orcs, they're…they're..."

Felix grimaced and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "You don't have to describe it to me." He said.

"_Underrrrstand!"_ Korbal said.

Felix thought for a moment and then nodded.

"They came with weapons and war," he said. "They had hostile intentions."

"_Challenge!"_ Korbal shook his head. _"Hunters!"_

"This was a challenging hunt?" Felix asked.

"_Yes!"_

"Where Gabrielle and I are not," Felix continued.

"_Yes!"_

"And that's why we are still alive," Felix finished.

"_Yes!"_

"And our companions," Felix went on. "If they were to come to you?"

"_Hunters!"_

"You would hunt them." Felix nodded.

"_Yes!"_

"You have no concept of right and wrong, do you?" Felix asked. "You know? Good guys and bad guys?"

At that, the Elder Kajano looked down at them and Gabrielle thought she could discern a frown on the monstrous features.

Korbal growled.

"He means," Gabrielle said before she could stop herself. "The men that lived in that place were not hunters!"

"_Armed as hunters!"_ Korbal grated.

"No," Gabrielle said a little too sharply.

Korbal tensed and his fingers flexed as if he anticipated an attack.

"No," Gabrielle said more softly. "The men here were protectors. Protectors of people like Felix and me."

"The creatures on the field are called orcs," Felix said quickly. "Now, I don't have all the information I'd like, but they are aggressors," he paused, trying to come up with synonymous words. "Um, invaders, intruders," he rolled a hand forward as his mind spun.

"Poachers," he finished.

That word got the Kajano Elder's attention. He hissed as if the word held a foul taste.

"They hunt where they are not permitted," Felix continued. "I know you have very strong beliefs about that."

Korbal folded his massive arms across his chest.

"_Speak!"_ he growled.

"Okay," Felix rubbed his hands together. "Okay. I have an idea that might help everyone involved and get all of us home."

Nicolla checked her chrono for the umpteenth time and sighed nervously. It had been nearly an hour and there had been no sign of Felix or Gabrielle returning. Again, she stretched out her mind, trying to sense their presence. Level nine telepaths like her needed to have the subject in a direct line of sight. Telepathic seeking like she was attempting was incredibly difficult. It was an exercise that only the most powerful and experienced telepaths had a chance of achieving, and yet, she continued to make the attempt.

She let the strain go and rubbed her temples, quelling the headache and took a deep breath.

"Two minutes you son of a bitch," she muttered. The threat died even as she spoke it. She might be tempted to leave Felix after his ridiculous stunt, but she couldn't leave Gabrielle. It was another little quirk in Felix's plan that he had worked to his advantage.

Even though a big part of her wanted to, out of a juvenile sense of spite, she couldn't leave him without leaving Gabrielle.

"Little prick," she muttered. All she could do was sit and wait, stewing with frustration.

Suddenly, she saw Gabrielle emerged from behind a low rise, walking towards the ship. In the same instant she felt the dread accompanying the young bard's mind. Felix was no where to be seen.

The slowly boiling outrage vanished in a sudden wave of concern.

As she read the emotions emanating from Gabrielle she discerned that Felix was still alive, or at least he had been alive when she left him.

Gabrielle stopped at the front of the ship and then ducked beneath it. Nicolla heard the soft sounds of someone tinkering beneath her and then Gabrielle emerged again and pointed towards the rear of the ship.

Nicolla nodded and hit the hatch release. Then she jumped from the flight couch and moved to the main cabin.

"Where is he?" She asked as Gabrielle stepped into the cabin.

Gabrielle managed a nervous shrug as she moved to the small work table. "Out there."

Nicolla sealed the hatch.

"Out there!" She blurted.

Gabrielle removed Felix's small recharging box from his pack and set it on the table, then she placed his prosthetic eyes into the charger and activated the recharge cycle. The small machine beeped twice in acknowledgement.

Gabrielle leaned against the table and took a deep, shaky breath. "When I left him, he was sitting out there with one of the Ka, whoever,"

"Kajano," Nicolla said.

"Yeah," Gabrielle nodded. "And they were talking."

Nicolla could sense the enormous pressure resting on Gabrielle's shoulders. The hour long ordeal had clearly frayed her nerves somewhat.

"Talking?" Nicolla was amazed. "They were talking? The Kajano never talk!"

"Well these ones were!" Gabrielle shot back angrily.

Nicolla took a deep breath and pulled her own anxiety back in check.

"Okay, fine," She said more softly. "Look, Tyrion has been burning up the signal domain trying to raise us on coms, and he isn't sounding any happier every time he repeats himself…"

"Felix told me to tell you that he needs you to wait," Gabrielle continued. "Don't send any signals for any reason until we get back."

"We?" Nicolla asked. "You're going back out there?"

"I can't leave him alone out there, Nicky," Gabrielle said evenly. "The only reason I came back here was because he asked me to do this." She gestured to the small box containing his eyes. "I just need a minute to collect myself."

"Are you handling this okay, Gabs?" Nicolla asked carefully.

The young bard looked at Nicolla and she immediately read the anxiety and strain in her eyes.

"No," Gabrielle smiled grimly.

She took a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. "I can still see the carnage that one of them caused. I can still smell the smells. And the faces of those creatures, I'll never forget that!"

Nicolla began unfastening her gear and setting it on the table.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked.

Nicolla set her side arm on the counter and dropped her vest into a nearby seat.

"You stay here," she began. "Keep the hatch shut and don't mess,"

"No!" Gabrielle interjected. She smiled. "I appreciate what you're doing Nicky, but Felix said that I had to come back, not you. They're touchy as it is and if you go walking out there, he thinks that might be all the excuse that Korbal needs to attack Felix."

"Korbal?" Nicolla frowned.

"That's the name of the Elder," Gabrielle replied. "The one in charge."

Nicolla was stunned.

"Let me get this straight," She said after she found her voice. "You walk him out to meet with some of the meanest, most violent life forms in the galaxy, and after an hour, he's on a first name basis with one of them?"

Gabrielle smiled at the irony of the situation, and that simple expression alleviated much of her anxiety.

"I gotta get back," she said, stepping towards the hatch.

"Remember," she added before she stepped down to the ground. "No signals at all, okay?"

Nicolla nodded. "Okay."

Tyrion paced around the hall of Meduseld, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

On one side, seated on a bench against the far wall, his partner, Silas, watched him with calm, dark eyes.

"Four hours!" Tyrion blurted. "They're four hours overdue and not so much as a peep on the com lines!"

His furious gaze locked on Silas's complacent one.

"I'll kill him," Tyrion growled and he resumed his pacing. Silas only smiled smugly and went back to cleaning his weapon.

It was another hour before they both heard the distant sound of the Phoenix's engines. Tyrion stopped in mid stride and turned towards the open doors at the end of the hall.

"About fucking time!" he blurted as he moved quickly towards the door.

He reached the landing outside the main hall in time to see his beloved ship coast smoothly over the wall and settle to the ground.

Tyrion stood at the lending and took several deep breaths.

Nicolla shut the engines down and set the instruments to stand by mode before pulling herself out of the flight couch.

Felix and Gabrielle were doing similar things at their stations. Felix, with his prosthetic eyes back in his head, smiled as he finished the last system shut down protocols and then rose.

"Felix?" Nicolla asked, stepping towards him.

Felix turned to face her.

"Yeah?"

Suddenly, the small pilot had Felix by the TAC vest. In a move so fast and violent that Gabrielle squealed from fright, Nicolla slammed Felix back against the bulkhead.

"Listen to me you Magorian grubwart!" she roared at him. "You ever, EVER pull a gun on me again, and I swear to all that is holy in the universe that I will fry your fucking mind like a casserole! You got me?"

Suddenly, Felix winced as a blinding headache assailed his skull.

Nicolla gave him another shove against the wall for good measure and released her mental hold.

"Pull a fucking gun on me!" she growled as she stormed away.

"Xena!" Tyrion called over his shoulder. "They're back!"

The Warrior Princess emerged from the hall and came to stand next to Tyrion.

"About time," she muttered.

She was about to say more when the hatch opened and Nicolla stalked out of the ship, her fingers balling into fists reflexively. A dark scowl was etched upon her face.

"Uh oh," Tyrion muttered as some of his own anger dissipated. "She's pissed."

"About what?" Xena mused.

Tyrion offered a humorless smile. "As long as I'm not on the receiving end, I don't care."

Xena smiled. Then her expression changed as Felix emerged, unaided, followed more slowly by Gabrielle.

The young bard looked pale and exhausted.

Gabrielle looked up at the two of them for a moment, and then she turned and moved away, vanishing deeper into the small city.

"Uh oh," she said, echoing Tyrion's exclamation of a moment before. "Something happened."

Xena went to follow her friend. She stopped at the head of the flags that descended to the small square.

"What's that?" Tyrion asked, pointing at Gabrielle. "She didn't have that hanging from her hip when they left?"

Xena immediately spied the narrow black bag or sheath handing from a belt around Gabrielle's waist. Then the pale bard vanished behind one of the smaller structures surrounding the square.

"I don't know," she offered.

She was about to continue down the long steps when Nicolla walked past her. Murder was in her eyes.

"All good, Nicky?" Tyrion asked.

She paused at the door and looked back at the ship below, then at Tyrion.

"Do me a favor, honey," she spat.

"Yes?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

She stepped up next to Tyrion.

"I want you to thrash that arrogant son of a bitch within an inch of his fucking life!" she finished the statement at a full throated bellow directed at the youthful soldier now coming towards them on the steps.

Nicolla wheeled around, one hand rubbing her temple as she vanished into the gloomy interior of Meduseld.

Felix jogged up the flags, giving Xena a friendly nod with his usual smile.

Xena fixed him with a dubious look in return. If anything had transpired to affect Gabrielle like that, she wasn't about to be cordial to the man who was, based on Nicolla's current demeanor, responsible for some mysterious trauma.

Felix stopped in front of Tyrion, grinning broadly as he looked back down and surveyed the muster of troops below.

"Getting everything ready, Chief?" he asked casually. "Good deal…"

"Stand fast!" Tyrion growled, instantly muting Felix's smile and rambling.

He gave Xena a nod and then suddenly grabbed Felix by both the shoulder and the lobe of his left ear.

"Come with me you little shit," he hissed. "You got an ass load of explaining to do!"

Xena found Gabrielle sitting on the edge of a small fountain that served as the water source for the surrounding homes. She was splashing the cool water on her face.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked gently. "Are you okay?"

Gabrielle took a deep breath, sniffed once and looked at Xena. Despite the recent washing of her face, Xena could see tear streaks on her cheeks.

"Um," Gabrielle sniffed again and wiped at her eyes. "No, not really."

Xena knelt down in front of her. "What happened? What did he do?"

"You remember Garis, Xena?" Gabrielle said in a shaky voice. "How he threw himself in the way of that bolt and died?"

"I remember," Xena nodded.

"The creature that did it is here, Xena," Gabrielle said. "It's here, and it remembers me!"

Xena felt her muscles tensing, as if she expected the predatory creature from their vacation on Andross Island to reappear before them.*

"It's here?" she managed to whisper.

Gabrielle managed a nervous laugh lacing her tears with bitterness. "It's here, in this place, with his whole family. So is the one that killed Felix's entire old unit and cost him his eyes."

Xena's mouth hung open slightly in shock. "You went after them before you came back?"

"No," Gabrielle replied. "We went looking for them, and we found them. Then he went and talked with them."

"He talked with them?" Xena echoed, not quite sure she could believe what she was hearing. "Meaning Felix?"

"That one from Andross, Xena," Gabrielle replied. "That one that did all those horrible things to all those people."

"Easy," Xena placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Easy."

"That was a child, Xena!" Gabrielle blurted. "That one was someone's child, playing in some sick, insane hunting ground, collecting trophies…"

"I get the picture," Xena interjected.

"No, you don't!" Gabrielle went on. "Xena, we met its father!"

Gabrielle wiped at her cheeks again, letting the pent up emotion flow from her, now that she was away from the nightmarish situation.

"He was the biggest, most frightening thing I've ever seen, Xena. He was huge, and he had these red eyes, and even when he was listening to Felix, when he looked at us, it was like, it was as if he were…Gods…It was as if he was sizing us up for a meal, or to make us one of his trophies, or worse!"

She gained control of herself for a moment. "Felix was blind! He couldn't just walk out there alone, I had to go out there and make sure he could make it back to the ship! Then I saw them standing there, the one from Andross Island, and he saw me! He spoke to me! He knew who I was!"

"Gabrielle," Xena whispered lamely. She honestly had no idea what to say.

"I don't know how he did it, Xena," Gabrielle said a touch more steadily.

"Who?" Xena asked.

"Felix!" Gabrielle blurted. "He sat in the dark, across from this thing that kills for pleasure, and he spoke to it, he got through to it! But I could still feel them, even when Korbal sent them away, I could feel them nearby, watching, waiting, maybe hoping that we would try something!"

"Korbal?" Xena asked.

"That's the elder one's name," Gabrielle said. "And the one that killed Felix's unit, um, that was Agran." She took a deep breath. "And the one from Andross, his name was Thegar, I think."

Xena let a surprised laugh escape. "He got them all on a first name basis?"

"He was amazing, Xena," Gabrielle stammered. "He sat there with the thing for six hours, in the dark, knowing that they could kill us at any moment! Do you know what that feels like?" The tears welled up again. "Knowing that someone or something you can't even see has a knife to your throat and can kill you whenever they choose, for any reason, and there's nothing," her voice cracked and the sobs finally burst out. "There's nothing you can do to stop it! No matter how hard you try, you can't get away from it!"

Something about the conversation had changed suddenly, and Xena realized it. She wrapped her arms around Gabrielle's shoulders and held her close, trying to offer some form of comfort.

"This isn't about what happened with Felix any more, is it?" she asked gently.

Gabrielle looked up at her and shook her head.

"But it felt the same," she cried. "I couldn't move before, because that thing was holding me while it," she stopped. "And this time, I couldn't move because I would have abandoned Felix!"

"But you didn't," Xena smiled.

"I almost did, Xena!" Gabrielle sobbed. "I almost turned and ran away! For a few moments, I didn't care about anything except getting away! I was so scared, Xena! I was so afraid I almost got Felix killed! I couldn't get away from Dahak, and I killed that woman in the temple, and Hope, and now I almost killed Felix by running away, and I actually didn't care! For one moment, I didn't care as long as I got away! Then I knew I wouldn't get away, but I didn't care about that either because I just wanted it to be over!

And the whole time I couldn't move because my body wouldn't let me!"

Xena held her, letting the emotion expend itself.

"He couldn't even see and he kept himself between me and them!" Gabrielle sobbed. "He couldn't even see, and he was still protecting me, and in spite of that, I almost left him behind!"

In that one moment, despite the horror that Felix had inadvertently subjected Gabrielle to, Xena's concerns regarding Gabrielle's safety were washed clean. Felix had been blind and helpless and still he had stood in front of Gabrielle. He knew he would have had no chance at surviving an attack by the creature, but he had gone first.

Xena slid back a bit and held Gabrielle's shoulders, looking into her eyes.

"You were afraid, Gabrielle," she said. "You were afraid and you wanted to get away!"

She placed a hand on Gabrielle's cheek and took a deep breath.

"You aren't the only one who's ever felt helpless Gabrielle," she admitted.

Xena really did not want to talk about this particular subject, because the memory was still so close.

"I wanted to die when Alsydius was torturing me." She finally said. She put two fingers on either side of Gabrielle's chin and held their gaze. "I was scared Gabrielle. I was terrified that they would keep me alive for months, years, just tearing me apart."

Gabrielle's sobs subsided and her tear stained expression became a mixture of self torture and surprise.

Xena held Gabrielle with a semi stern expression. "I don't know what was happening when I heard it, but the last thing I heard before I decided I wanted to die was the thunder of Tyrion's ship. I prayed that he had taken you with him. If I could believe that you were gone, I could let myself die."

"Xena," Gabrielle stammered.

"The next thing I knew, Tyrion is standing in front of me, cutting me free." Xena smiled.

"I didn't believe it until I heard your voice," Xena admitted. "That was when I was willing to fight again. I don't know if I would have lived without Tyrion's help, but when I knew you were there and rescuing me, I knew I had to try."

The two of them embraced suddenly, each one offering comfort to the other, even as they suffered.

Xena felt her own eyes welling up a little. She smiled. "And Felix, as much of an arrogant bastard as he is, cares about you as much as I do. Maybe even more?"

"I almost left him, Xena," Gabrielle sighed.

"I almost gave up and left you," Xena countered. "It didn't change the way I feel about you. Everyone has a point where they lose courage, even if it's for a moment or two. It's part of being human. What counts is that you wanted to leave him, but you didn't! You understand me? You wanted to, but you didn't! Doing the right thing doesn't mean you feel no fear, Gabrielle. You do the right thing, even when you're afraid."

"How can I do anything," Gabrielle looked down at the ground. "When as much as I love him being around, I'm afraid of him too? I feel like…"

"Like you don't deserve to feel good about yourself after all that's happened," Xena nodded.

Gabrielle nodded.

Xena placed a finger beneath her chin, lifting her gaze.

"Do you think I think less of you because of what happened?" she asked.

Gabrielle shook her head slowly.

"Right," Xena smiled. "Do you think Felix thinks any less of you, after you told him what happened to you?"

"He didn't say anything like that," Gabrielle replied. "If anything, he's been going out of his way to not make sure I know that."

"Except for crazy stunts like this last one," Xena put in.

Gabrielle smiled the first genuine smile in a long time. "Yeah, except for that."

"Gabrielle," Xena fixed her with a serious look. "Do you think he loves you?"

Gabrielle considered only for a few moments and then nodded.

"Well then," Xena smiled. "Let things happen when you're ready for them to happen."

She smiled encouragingly. "That doesn't mean you won't be scared, okay?"

Tyrion practically threw Felix into the main hall.

"Hey! Hey!" Felix protested. "What gives?"

"You're five hours overdue asshole!" Silas thundered.

"And you better have a damn good reason for that, and pissing off your pilot!" Tyrion continued.

"And Lil Bit!" Silas finished, referring to Gabrielle. "Why'd you get her all freaky, too!"

Felix looked to Mavon but instead of seeing an ally, he saw Mavon's critical stare back.

"Better start talking, bro," he said.

Felix got to his feet and straightened his jacket with an emphatic jerk down, and then he unslung his pack and turned back towards the throne.

"Where's Eomer?" he asked tersely. "I got something for him, and if you want to hear all of it, then he should be here too, cause I'm not going all through this twice."

Eomer returned a short time later.

"I have much to prepare and consider," he said sternly. "So please be brief."

"Sure," Felix replied, opening his back pack and drawing out a bundle of cloth. He stepped forward and presented the folded cloth to Eomer.

"Brief enough for you?" Felix asked.

"What is this?" Eomer asked as he unfolded the cloth. Then his eyes went momentarily wide in surprise that settled to a simmering wrath.

"This is the standard of Feobold," he growled.

"You're commander at Helms Deep, yes," Felix nodded. "They were completely wiped out by the Kajano. No survivors. Sorry."

"How the hell did you wind up with it?" Silas asked.

"Korbal gave me that flag when he understood that the fortress at Helms Deep was not a hunters' camp." Felix replied. Then he looked back at the King. "He also told me that he and his family are removing themselves from the fortress and returning it to you." Felix raised his voice so that everyone in the hall could hear it. "The bones of your fallen at Helms Deep will be laid to rest respectfully, and you may return to the fortress at your leisure."

Tyrion finally found his voice. "You spoke with the Kajano?" he managed to ask. "For five hours?"

"Well, there was a language barrier to overcome," Felix shrugged. He turned back to the king. "Korbal also offers an alliance, in payment of the debt he feels he owes to you and your people."

"If he seeks permission to negotiate an alliance, then you may inform him that, if he leaves his weapons beyond the gates of the city, I will hear him." Eomer said thickly.

"Ah, that might be a problem," Felix replied. "You see, the Kajano don't usually, well, it isn't customary for them to speak with anyone, or anything that they consider prey."

"Prey," Eomer hissed. "They consider us prey?"

"King!" Felix said quickly. "They consider everything prey, alright? It's not personal!"

"Explain," Tyrion said.

"Okay," Felix thought for a moment, framing his words. "The Kajano are hunters, plain and simple. They're born, they hunt, they kill, and they make little Kajano. That pretty much explains their culture. As a result they view the entire universe in two simple dynamics. Hunters and Prey. That's about it, really. If you haven't hunted them, you're pretty much prey."

"Pretty much?" Mavon asked.

"There is a third group that they will sometimes interact with," Felix nodded. "Me and Gabby fall into that third group. We're survivors."

"Survivors?" Eomer asked, bringing his anger in check.

"Anyone who has survived a Kajano hunt, or managed to cripple, kill, or drive off one of their hunters is called a survivor, for obvious reasons. They have their own word for it, but I won't even try and pronounce it. Survivors hold a special place in their culture, because they showed the strength, skill, and resilience enough to fend them off. They are the universe's bad asses and they know it. Someone stands up to them and lives, they get recognized."

Felix gave a shrug. "I survived the assault on Mintaka Drift, even though I was wounded and Gabrielle survived a hunt on an island a couple of years ago. As a result, right now, the Kajano will only speak with three people. Gabrielle, me, and Xena."

"Xena?" Silas blurted.

"She also survived the island hunt with Gabrielle," Felix said.

"Why did they attack Helms Deep?" Eomer asked.

"Ah," Felix nodded. "That's complicated. They were brought here, just like Xena, Gabrielle, and the rest of us. When they landed they were stuck on an unknown world, without any protection or shelter, so they began scouting around to locate some. That was when they found Helms Deep. The fortress made an ideal base for them, plus they saw all those armed men, and they couldn't resist."

"Couldn't resist what, exactly?" Tyrion asked.

"The challenge," Felix replied. "Remember, their entire culture is based on the hunt. They see a challenge and they have to accept it, and the greater the risk to themselves, the greater the challenge, the greater the accomplishment."

He paused suddenly when he saw Eomer's eyes momentarily darken.

"Anywhoo," Felix continued. "After Korbal and his cadre made themselves at home, they came under attack from a large company of orcs," He looked at Eomer for confirmation of the name. The king nodded. "And the orcs put up a helluva a fight, I can tell you, but it didn't help much. They were there just to kill for the sake of killing, and the Kajano don't agree with that."

Felix nodded to the King and smiled grimly.

"The one thing that played in your favor," he continued. "Is that they observed several of your people farming and hunting. They kept what the killed and utilized it. The orcs just leave things lay where they fall, and do nothing with it."

"So?" Silas asked.

"Think of it as cardinal sin number one," Felix replied. "Kajano kill all kinds of things, but they use their kills for clothing, armor, tools, food, decoration, a wide variety of things. They saw some your people doing the same thing, but by then, it was too late. They had already taken Helms Deep. Now, we saw what was left of the force that hit Helms Deep join up with the main force heading this way. They looked like they had gotten their asses handed to them, but there were far too many of them for twelve Kajano to handle in spite of their technological advances, so they had to let them go."

"Then, after that, we do a quick flyby and get their attention. Then Gabs and I show up, and everything changes." Felix grinned. "Two people from two separate hunts show up on the same planet at the same time? And they meet the two Kajano involved in those two separate hunts? Plus the Kajano involved are members of the same cadre? The odds against that are so great that they had to learn what was going on."

"That was why you said it had to be me?" Gabrielle's voice sounded from the far end of the hall. "That was why you didn't want Nicky to come out."

"Exactly," Felix replied. "If I could have pulled this off with Nicolla, believe me, I wouldn't have asked you to lead me out there."

Xena saw the genuine apology on Felix's face and the last of her concerns were gone.

Felix stepped quickly over to meet Gabrielle as she and Xena came the rest of the way into the hall.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Better," Gabrielle nodded.

"Doc!" Tyrion boomed.

Felix looked back sternly. "What?"

"You were saying?" Tyrion gestured to the king, seated on the throne.

"Oh, yeah," Felix replied. "Sorry."

Gabrielle sat down next to the massive bulk of Silas and took a long breath. Then she felt the man's massive arm encircle her shoulders and give her a gentle squeeze.

"You okay, Lil Bit?" Silas asked in a whisper.

There was something strange in that moment. Gabrielle did not feel the instinct to recoil from the big man's touch. Not like she had been feeling it he past, every time a friend had offered a hug, or a friendly kiss in greeting, she had been required to force a sense of revulsion and fear back into her gut. This time, however, she had not felt it, and a part of her thought that was strange before she rally appreciated the protective embrace.

She smiled softly and leaned back against his arm.

"Better now," she whispered. "Thanks."

Maybe that was what she needed? Maybe she needed to be more frightened of something new to lose some of the trauma left over by her past.

Or perhaps it was the unconditional patience and concern that they each seemed to have for her, especially the big man beside her. Ever since their first encounter, Silas had become almost a surrogate uncle to her. The thought struck her as amusing considering the way their first encounter had gone.

Felix's explanation faded into the distance as her mind drifted back to another time, another place, a world away from her own.

"_Low-Tech?" He managed to stammer. He rose like standing wall behind his desk. His massive hands planted on the smooth surface so that he loomed over the young lady. "You smuggled a Low-Tech onto this station? Into my club? You Lowjackin son of a bitch! What the hell are you doing spinning in sector thirty-seven?"_

"_Stand down, Sergeant!" Tyrion barked suddenly in a commanding tone._

_Instantly, Silas ceased his recriminations and stood up straight. _

"_She's with me because there was nowhere else for her to go!" Tyrion continued in the same voice. "Her friend is in trouble and I need Old Number Seven to get her out."_

_Tyrion set the pad down in front of Silas. "And I need this too." He finished._

_Silas took the pad with his eyes on Tyrion, "Yeah, and I need this like I need another hole in my damn head." He muttered as he began to look over the list. As he read, a cynical smile began to spread across his dark face, and his chuckle rumbled across the room. "Five MP9's, two AS2's, a crate of M67's, five P7's – "he stopped and his mouth dropped open. "And you want a TD?" His laugh set the glass shelves vibrating. Gabrielle winced at the ferocity of that sound._

_He tossed the pad down with a clatter and set his cigar in his teeth. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" he chuckled and settled back into his oversized chair. "Perhaps a Virellian Battle Cruiser?" His hands extended in an open gesture. Gabrielle, for the first time, appreciated the size of the man before her. His arms were easily as big around as her thigh._

_His com beeped and he answered it. There was a quiet conversation and then he looked back at his guests._

"_Mavon and Felix are on the way." He said. "So, you explain to me why you're doing this for her and her friend. If I'm putting my can on the line, I need to know it's for a damn good reason. Right now, I'm not convinced."_

"_What do you want us to do?" Gabrielle blurted out._

_Silas reached for a second cigar and lit it. "You got to convince me, little girl. You got to convince me." He sat back and waited expectantly._

"_This is all a game to you, isn't it?" Gabrielle snarled. "My best friend is stuck in some dungeon while you go from a couple of days to four hours!"_

_The smile melted from Silas's face and his countenance became more severe._

"_You better watch that mouth of yours, missy," he growled._

"_Or what!" Gabrielle shot back. All the pent up emotion was rushing out and there was no way for her to stop it. "After everything I told you! You sit here playing these games while they're doing, I don't know what, to my friend! You think I care what you'll do to me?" She turned and bolted from the room._

Gabrielle blinked. Had someone called her name?

She looked up to see Felix looking at her.

"What was that?" She asked.

"Let me see your gift, please?" Felix stretched out his hand.

Gabrielle reached down and drew from the new sheath at her hip, a bronze cluster of rods held together at each end by two flat silvery pieces of metal shaped roughly like teardrops.

"The second thing working in our favor," Felix went on "Is that Korbal is more enlightened than the usual Kaj. He understands a lot more about things than the average hunter out on safari."

She handed the weapon to Felix.

"Now," he resumed. "This is an example of a Kajano pole arm, graciously presented to Gabrielle by Thegar."

He glanced over at Xena. "The one that you and your friends encountered on your world."

Xena nodded.

In the light of the fire, the bronze shone golden and the silver ends flickered at the edge with fire.

Felix stepped up and presented the weapon to the king.

Eomer's eyebrows rose in mild surprise when he received it. It was barely two feet in length, incredibly intricate and light. At a glance, he could tell the silver ends were razor sharp.

"Impressive," He nodded, handing the weapon back to Felix.

"Sir," he said with a smile. "You ain't seen nothing yet."

Felix took several paces away from the king, held the weapon horizontally before him and then twitched one finger.

The pole arm extended with a series of metallic clicks until it was nearly six feet long. The two tear drop blades at the end extended and fanned out into wicked forks another two feet.

Felix held the weapon up for the king to see and then he turned and strode to the thick oak table nearby.

"This is one of their simpler weapons," he explained. He stepped up upon one of the wooden benches, gave the weapon a few experimental swings to build up some inertia and then he brought one of the blades down across the width of the table. The blade seemed not to even slacken its pace as it sliced through the thick table effortlessly. The two halves of the broken furniture collapsed to the ground with an ominous thud.

"As you can see," he said with a grim smile. "They know a little bit more about weapon making than we do."

Felix dropped to the ground, the strange weapons compacting in his hand before he handed it back to Gabrielle. Then he turned back to the others.

"That little butter cutter was a gift to Gabrielle," he said. Then he drew a pistol from his belt. It was a little worn, but otherwise still in good condition. Tyrion suppressed a soft whistle of appreciation when he realized that it was an antiquated slug thrower.

"So was this," Felix held the weapon up. "This was a souvenir that Agran snatched from one of my team mates during the attack on Mintaka Drift, twelve years ago, before I transferred to Covert Ops with Tyrion's people."

He slid the weapon back into his belt and sighed. "Personally, I think the ladies always get the better gifts."

"Keep on target, Doc," Tyrion growled.

Gabrielle suppressed a sudden smile.

"Right," Felix turned back to Eomer. "These guys only give these little tokens to survivors, you see? The fact that Korbal actually returned the banner and the entire fortress to you without a fight is unprecedented. So is the other thing he actually offered."

"And that was?" Eomer asked.

"His cadre weakened your ability to face the enemy marching towards you," Felix said. "He offers his cadre's aid in payment. Provided that you and your men won't hold a grudge for their error."

Eomer considered that for a moment. "The measure of any man or beast is in his desire to do the honorable deed. That he has made this offer is honorable, yet how may I measure the words of one who will not present them in person? This creature owes a debt to the people of Rohan. It is a debt that must be repaid. If they should wish to repay that debt on the battlefield, I shall judge them on their actions upon the field."

Felix seemed to consider that for a moment, and then he shrugged and turned his attention to a dark corner of the room.

"You heard the man," he spoke to the empty air.

The air seemed to ripple slightly and then the figure of Korbal materialized from behind a soft tracing of blue energy.

Instantly weapons were drawn and directed at the beast.

Korbal dropped into a crouch, twin blades extending four feet from the bracers on either wrist. His outer mandibles flared as his eyes narrowed.

Felix moved quickly to stand before him.

"Easy! Easy, big fella!" he said, holding his hands out. "I told you they might be a bit twitchy!"

Felix looked back at the others. "Put the weapons down," he said in a commanding tone. "Put them down or this place will be a mess."

Korbal growled menacingly. Then his red eyes fixed on Eomer, the only person in the room who had not reacted to his appearance. He sat unmoved, his eyes staring at the nine foot beast with an expression of awe.

The Kajano was the first to respond to Felix's order. He stood back up, the blades retracting into concealment.

"Lower your weapons," Eomer ordered. He stood and moved slowly around the blazing fire, his eyes locked on Korbal.

Tyrion, Xena, and the others did as instructed.

Eomer gestured to Felix, still standing before the massive creature.

"This man claims to speak for you and your kind," he said evenly. "He has made many promises on your behalf."

Korbal nodded his head once.

"Yet," Eomer continued. "What shall I say to my people of the fallen at Helms Deep? How shall they be remembered?"

Again, Korbal growled that menacing clicking growl.

Felix felt the king's hand upon his shoulder. "Stand aside, Master Felix."

Reluctantly, Felix did as instructed, though he did not withdraw too far.

Eomer looked up into the demonic face of Korbal.

"Will you commit your deeds upon the field of battle as payment of your debt to the people of Rohan?" Eomer asked. "Will you do so with honor, and without deceit? And how should I know that you will not fall upon us after the battle is won?"

Felix winced. "King," he began, but Eomer held a hand up to stay his soft protest.

"I would have his true answer," Eomer said evenly.

Korbal brought his face within inches of Eomers. The king, to his credit did not flinch a bit, holding the creatures gaze with a measuring one of his own.

Hands slowly began to move closer to sword hilts and triggers as they watched these two leaders measuring each other without speaking.

Finally, Eomer nodded.

"I believe you shall act nobly on the field he said, satisfied. He turned and went to a large shield, hanging upon one of the pillars at either side of the throne. He lifted the heavy shield, from its place. It bore the crest of Rohan, the rearing stallion on a field of green.

Eomer returned to stand before Korbal and presented the shield.

"Bear this to good fortune in the coming battle, and all who hold with me will know you as an ally of the Eolingas," he said. "We ride out at dawn to meet our enemy."

Korbal hissed and took the shield, slinging it over one massive shoulder. He stared at Eomer for another long moment, nodded and turned away. Then he paused and turned back. He drew a sword and scabbard from his belt and tossed it on the ground at the kings' feet.

"_Take it,"_ he grated, and then he turned away again and vanished in a corona of blue energy.

Eomer drew the weapons half way out of the sheath and studied it. It was single edged, and wickedly wrought, obviously alien in design. What amazed Eomer the most was that the weapons was a good five inches longer than a standard blade of Rohan and almost weightless, made from a polished black material almost like obsidian, but clearly metallic. It widened towards the front and yet was superbly balanced.

"Fuck me raw," Felix whispered, his jaw hanging slack. "Do you have any idea what you just did?"

Eomer looked up at him.

"I mean, shit," Felix went on. "Sitting down with them as a survivor was one thing, but you managed to come to an accord as prey! You changed his view without a fight!"

"You are wrong, Master Felix," Eomer replied with a grim smile. "There was a fight here this evening. A battle of wills can oft be as fraught with hazard as can a battle with blades."

Eomer turned back to Tyrion. "As to our words earlier, I have reconsidered. I would have you and your people ride to battle with us on the morrow."

"We'll be ready," Tyrion nodded.

Felix was still awed by what he had witnessed. She shook his head as if to clear a fog and then looked about the room at the others. A wry smile began to pull at his lips.

Gabrielle saw this and frowned. "What is it?"

Felix shook his head in bewilderment and his smile grew.

"We are in for one wild day tomorrow," he replied.

30


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"A battle is a living, breathing thing. The soldier who learns its rhythms has a better chance of surviving than the one who rushes blindly forward to meet it…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

At first light the following morning, the muster of Rohan was complete and the army marched north towards the host of Isengard. For some in the ranks the coming battle was reminiscent to one nearly twenty years before, when an army or Uruk-Hai fell upon the land of Rohan, driving the people to a final battle at the gates of Helms Deep.

Now, however, the King of Rohan was not fighting a diversionary battle to buy his people time, he was marching out with his full strength to meet the enemy head on.

The members of Tyrion's team, assigned to the ground action, bore their usual weapons plus one archaic addition. They had each strapped their dress uniform sabers to their belts.

The Special Forces Service Commissions were simple, elegant, and functional, though in their world, the decorative saber served more as an accoutrement than an actual weapon. Here, the superbly manufactured saber would undoubtedly surpass nearly every bladed weapon in the field.

Anticipating the melee that would eventually ensue, Colonel Kleegan had insisted that Tyrion's people add these weapons to their standard gear as a precaution, amidst several smirks and muffled chuckles.

All of that humor was gone now as they each understood what was about to happen. It was war the old fashioned way, up close, brutal, bloody, and extremely personal.

The army of Rohan, including its reinforcements from Gondor, numbered nearly five thousand. Of that, almost half were on horseback, including Xena, the king, his knights, and Tyrion's people.

Colonel Kleegan, Gabrielle, and Nicolla were not among the marching ranks. As they had planned, those three made up the flight crew for the Phoenix. They would stand aside, waiting until called for to aid in the evacuation of wounded. The ship itself had been switched to its triage configuration, with the ten medical beds and equipment all prepped and ready.

"Master Felix," Eomer asked. "It would seem that your otherworldly friends have chosen not to join us in battle after all."

Felix looked around at the myriad of faces all moving towards a single purpose. No, the Kajano were not among them, still Felix couldn't shake the feeling that something extraordinary was about to occur.

"They'll show," he replied. "They don't seem the type to miss out on a party like this."

"We shall see," Eomer said grimly.

It was late morning, and the sun was shining brightly in the sky. Waves of heat rose off the shifting bodies of tall grass as the wind blew across the plains.

The scouts returned a short time later to inform the king that the enemy had been sighted, forming up nearby. It appeared that the scout counterparts on the other side had also spied Eomer's forces.

As a result, neither side would be able to draw upon the crucial element of surprise to gain the upper hand.

"This is gonna be one hell of a brawl," Silas muttered as he adjusted his AS2 harness.

Tyrion tapped his coms.

"Okay people," he said sternly. "This is gonna go down hard. Plan on H 2 H after the first few minutes. Keep moving and try and stay paired up. No solo heroes, understood?"

"And remember kids," Felix's voice added. "Pillage before you burn."

Aboard the Phoenix Fire, Gabrielle smiled at Felix's little jest, even Nicolla managed a small smirk.

"Felix," Tyrion's voice answered. "When this little war is over, you and I need to have a talk."

"About bloody time," Allister muttered from the pilot's couch. Unlike the others, his com was not open. He expertly banked the Phoenix around.

"Surface scan, please," he instructed.

Nicolla's hands flew across the screen.

"Okay, honey," she called to Tyrion. "We got bad guys. Main forces about two kliks from your position, moving steadily southward." She paused and magnified the imaging, noting a second group of dots moving quickly to the west in an attempt to flank Eomer's forces.

"And I have a secondary unit moving to a flanking position on your western side. You may want to detach an expedition to deal with that," No sooner had she spoken when the dots indicating life began to pop out in rapid succession. "Wait a second, check that."

"Give me a count," Tyrion ordered.

"I'm having trouble keeping up," Nicolla said with a nervous laugh. "Numbers are dropping real fast." She magnified the image again, seeking the cause of the massacre, but saw nothing. "I don't have a cause on the screen, but they are dying by the bushel down there."

"Give me a count!" Tyrion ordered again.

"Down to two hundred," Nicolla replied in awe. There was only one thing that she knew of capable of this type of rapid carnage. "I believe the Kajano are making their presence felt." She refocused her attention on the screen.

"About a half klik away there's a small rise. This should give you the high ground from which to observe. Looks like you should crest it about the same time as the bad guys reach their only prospective command point."

"Confirmed," Tyrion replied. "What's the status of the flanking force?"

Nicolla scrolled the image and frowned. "What flanking force?" she reported. "No hostile action located on your western flank. Looks like the Kajano's cleaned up the mess."

Felix smiled and looked over at Eomer. "I told you." He said lightly.

"At the top of this rise is a good place to manage the battle, sir," Tyrion pointed ahead. "The enemy should be approaching that nearby rise about a quarter klik north of there. From that vantage we should be able to see anything and everything they might do."

"Very well, Master Tyrion," Eomer nodded. "Just one thing, if you would?"

"Sure." Tyrion replied.

"What precisely is a klik?" Eomer asked with a fierce grin. Then he nodded to Argoman, riding in between Tyrion and Silas. "Take your men and prepare to attack from the eastern side. Await the call of our horns."

"My Lord," Argoman nodded his head once and galloped of, calling the men under his command.

Eomer turned to his left and nodded to Breggolard.

"Guard our left," he instructed.

"Sire," Breggolard nodded. Then he looked at Felix and nodded. "Send my regards to the Lady Sunmane, Master Felix."

Breggolard wheeled his horse around and called his men as he galloped off.

"Riders of Rohan!" Eomer called. "Form up! Infantry behind! Ready the charge!"

The wall of man and beast began to surge forward towards the top of the hill.

In a soft writhing of blue energy, the massive bulk of Korbal materialized before the coming surge. He raised a single clawed hand in a gesture of patience.

"Hold! Hold!" Eomer called in a clear ringing voice. The line of horses stopped at the crest of the hill.

Korbal looked between Felix and Eomer, nodding briefly to Xena.

"Hey big fella," Felix greeted.

"Master Korbal," Eomer said fiercely. "Why do you halt our advance?"

Korbal's red eyes locked on the king's. Then he turned and pointed across the shallow valley at the mass of assembled Orcs, standing rank upon rank. Their pikes stood or waved in the wind like steel grasses. Their dark armor glinted in the hot sun.

Unlike before, more of Korbal's body was covered by various bits of armor and other trophies. He turned and stepped forward several paces, his eyes scanning the ranks of enemy across from him.

All who were close enough heard the massive alien grate a single word.

"_Prey."_

Suddenly, the big creature crouched low, his hands splayed wide as he reached out with his arms.

The outer mandibles of his mouth flexed out in a ghastly display and his bellow shook the ground beneath their feet, reverberating through the air like a trumpet blast.

Lesser men in the ranks of Eomer's army covered their ears at the horrible, bloodthirsty cry.

Something began to awaken at that powerful, primal sound, something buried deep within each and every man on the front line. The men felt the coming rush of battle. Fingers tightened on sword hilts, eyes became more focused.

In the distance, from either side of the Orc formation, answering cries could be heard.

Korbal drew up his mask, attaching two small hoses to the side, just behind the cheek. He turned and looked at Eomer expectantly.

Eomer nodded, holding his nervous mount in check.

Korbal raised the face plate and Eomer heard the soft hiss as it affixed in place. At the creatures shoulder, a device suddenly came to life and swiveled experimentally.

The massive shield of Rohan shone in the sun, hanging from Korbal's opposite shoulder. He turned and began striding purposefully towards the enemy.

"He cannot hope to stand alone, My Lord," One of Eomer's lieutenants offered.

Eomer watched the creature with admiration.

"He is not alone," he said.

Korbal reached over his shoulder and drew out a bundle of steel. Instantly it extended and expanded to form his massive trident.

That was when many of the sharper eyed men saw the subtle shift of movement behind and on either side of Korbal. Vague, ghostlike amorphous shapes that trailed the Elder Kajano.

Many in the Orc lines, fed by haunted tales of the ghostly warriors of Helms Deep, began to quail at the sight of this lonely creature striding towards them, confident and unafraid.

The archers stepped forward and notched arrows to their bows.

Korbal unslung the shield in expectation of the coming attack.

"Aim you maggots!" A harsh voice cried.

The ranks of archers drew back on their bows.

"Loose!"

A veritable cloud of arrows arced through the afternoon sky towards the lone creature. Korbal waited till the last moment before dropping to a knee and raising the shield over his head in a defensive posture.

The arrows pelted the ground all around the Elder and riddled the thick oak shield, though they did not penetrate it.

"Oh man," Felix muttered in sympathy. "That was major fuck up number one."

Even as the arrows dropped from the sky, some of them actually penetrating the non vital portions of Korbal's body, he began to laugh a deep throaty bellowing laugh that was horrible to hear.

The volley ceased and the archers stood dumbstruck in fear at the sound.

Korbal rose to his feet, plucking several arrows from his body. Luminous green blood flowed from the wounds. He ignored the injuries and faced the thousands of Orcs standing within bowshot of him. Then he stretched his arms out to either side and issued that horrific war cry again.

On either side of him, six more Kajano materialized into existence. These were nearly as large as the Elder and covered in thick black armor from head to toe. Their bodies bristled with edged weapons of all sorts, and the small shoulder mounted cannons swiveled as they gazed at their opposition.

"Two Triads!" Felix blurted. "Two fucking Triads!"

"What's the plan boss?" Silas growled, fingering the firing mechanism of his massive rifle.

"Oh, they are so screwed," Felix muttered.

"Wait for it," Tyrion replied. "Korbal's calling the shots here."

Suddenly, all seven of the Kajano before the enemy ranks bellowed hungrily, and the first pale blue bolts of energy sizzled through the air.

Bodies scrambled in complete panic, many screaming in horror. The few archers with the presence of mind to shoot merely exposed themselves to the vicious Paldorians and were quickly dispatched. Then the seven creatures ran forward even as two more groups of three bolts sizzled in from either side.

Just as Korbal and his escort reached within striking distance of the first line, they all vanished in mid leap.

"For Rohan!" Eomer cried in a clear voice, and he spurred his horse.

The wall of cavalry charged down the shallow hill towards the enemy. Horns cried out. Men screamed, and the thunder of horses' hooves shook the ground.

The Orcs saw this new threat and focused upon that even as Korbal and his bodyguard vanished. They quickly reformed their pike ranks in anticipation of the charge.

That was when the carnage truly began.

Cries of pain suddenly erupted among the ranks as Orc pike men fell to the ground, rent by invisible blades, Here a body crumpled, there a head detached from the shoulders. Bodies were lifted from the earth and flung amidst the others.

The remaining six on either side of the formation materialized into view lacing the area with blue bolts of destruction.

The demonic enemy was on either side of them and in their midst as well as having their enemy charging towards undefended formations en masse.

"Form up you swine!" An Orc captain bellowed amidst the carnage. "Form up!" He stopped short when something punched through his armor and blasted through his body.

The seven Kajano amidst the Orcs flashed back into sight, wreaking havoc and destruction, clearing circles around them with vicious efficiency.

Tyrion saw the openings in the mass of enemy and smiled.

"Okay guys!" He called. "They told us where they are! Open the doors!"

The four of them raised their weapons, letting the horses beneath them run free.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!" Tyrion shouted.

Red tracers intermingled with the blue bolts of the Kajano, striking different portions at the front of the formation.

The formation of Eomer's charge morphed into something that resembled a huge arrow head as Silas, Felix, Tyrion, and Mavon poured fire into the center of the pike line.

"Open a door!" Silas bellowed.

Then the wave of Rohan smashed through the formation of Orcs.

"H-two! H-two!" Tyrion roared, flinging his rifle behind his back and drawing his commissioned saber.

High above, in the Phoenix Fire, Nicolla and Gabrielle hovered over the sensor screen, showing the intermingled specs that indicated the forces below.

The sounds of war echoed through the com speakers with all its horrific clarity.

One thing that began to carry clearly through the cacophony was the words "Push them back!"

Indeed, the center of the battle seemed to be shifting northwards with agonizing deliberation.

Suddenly Tyrion's voice rang clearly over the din.

"Dustoff! Dustoff!" he called. "We have wounded!"

Nicolla modified the view and noted a cluster of dots moving south away from the battle.

"We got them honey," she replied. "You watch your ass!"

"Captain Sheil," Allister added. "Stand by. Only critical care one to be admitted in here, understood? I trust you and the lady can see to it?"

"Yes sir," Nicolla replied.

"Please prep for landing, ladies and gentlemen," Allister said calmly over the speakers.

Nicolla and Gabrielle stepped back through the hatch and saw the nervous faces of those healers that had volunteered to fly in the strangers' contraption.

At the back of the cabin, near the hatch were stacks of timbers and rolls of canvas.

"Okay!' Nicolla said confidently. "When we hit the ground, the tent gear goes first!" she turned to the half dozen young men seated nearest the hatch.

"That means you. Get up, grab the gear and follow me out, okay?"

The six men nodded.

Nicolla went to four more people near the back. "Any tent gear that gets left behind is yours, get it and go!"

More nods.

"Gabby," Nicolla went on. "Make sure everything goes and then set this place up, got it?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Thirty seconds," Allister reported dutifully.

The Phoenix Fire coasted down to the earth within sight of the battle. With the arrival of this strange vessel from the sky, many of the already skittish Orcs suddenly panicked and fought a desperate battle to cut loose and run, only to be dispatched by the occasional plasma shot or enemy blade.

The battle dragged on through the afternoon and into the early hours of evening. The sun began to settle down blood red in the west even as the battle continued.

The army of Gondor, reinforcing the ranks of Rohan inexorably began to push the foe back towards the north with a relentless assault.

Xena galloped to and fro reordering her troops into rough Phalanxes and moving them forward to engage the disorganized Orcs.

The enemy pushed forward in a mass of ferocious bodies, heedless of the danger any enemy posed. They hacked and slashed with weapons, shields, spears, even bare claws, bringing down many a soldier of Rohan or Gondor, still, they suffered losses more quickly than the organized attacks of Eomer's forces. The battle was slowly being won. The Orc host was driven further and further north.

Tyrion and Silas stayed close to one another, protecting each other and the men around them with vicious, precise strokes of their weapons. As Colonel Kleegan had predicted, the weapons of Tyrion's people were superior in craft from those of the Orcs, and cut easily through the light leathery armor of the enemy.

The two fought a defensive action, moving forward until they discovered wounded, and then staying ahead of them and protecting the fallen while others pulled them to safety. He bellowed orders at the top of his lungs, directing others between engagements.

Eomer and his Knights broke through the center ranks and drove through to the wide circle of death that had been established by Korbal, hacking and hewing anything in their path. Suddenly, a rush of Orcs managed to unseat Eomer and he was thrown clear. He rolled to his feet, dispatched three Orcs that came after him. The sword given to him by the creature, Korbal, sliced through the metal of the attackers and then through the attackers with little effort.

"To me!" he roared as he backed towards the Elder Kajano. "To me, Riders of Eomer!"

He bumped into something, wheeled and froze when he realized it was Korbal.

The big alien also turned, and two long, jagged blades extended from his wrist with a loud clang. He beast swung right at Eomer's neck.

Eomer ducked and spun just in time to see the Orc soldier charging towards him, spear in hand. The Orc dropped in a heap at Korbal's feet, his head rolling off into the fray.

Eomer raised his sword in quick salute and then the two leaders stood back to back.

Felix and Mavon fought staggered attacks, each one ducking in and pulling wounded free as the other covered them using both their sabers and their pistols.

Those less wounded would then aid the others in drawing clear of the conflict and moving to the Phoenix Fire and the large tent being erected nearby.

During a quick lull in the battle, Felix looked over at Mavon and grinned.

"Don't slow down on me, Bro," he said as he reloaded his pistol. "You getting lazy on me, or what?"

"Fuck you," Mavon replied. He checked his own pistol and swung his saber in a quick arc. "Ready?"

"My turn," Felix nodded. He seemed to be genuinely enjoying the madness around him.

"I'll bag and you drag," Mavon nodded.

"Go!" Felix cried and the two of them charged screaming back into the chaos.

The two of them managed to lead a dozen wounded clear of the battle before they had to reload again.

"One to Two," Tyrion called quickly. "What's your status?"

"Fucking busy, Chief," Felix replied jauntily. "How about you?"

"Stay tight! Don't go too deep into the enemy lines!" Tyrion instructed. "Stay together!"

"Confirmed!" Mavon shouted, firing two quick shots at a charging Orc and bringing him down.

Felix looked over the battle, choosing their next line of attack when he saw the Kajano encircled by a crowd of Orcs. Luminous green blood flowed from countless wounds and the dark armor hung loosely in places where Orc blades had broken through.

It was swinging weapons less fluidly, almost weakly.

"We're losing a Kaj!" He called over the coms. "Mave, let's do it!"

"Right with you!" Mavon shouted, and the two charged forward again, fighting their way deeper into the enemy towards the beleaguered Paldorian.

"Xe!" Felix called. "Any chance of some backup over here? It's getting freaky!"

Xena reined her horse and quickly found Felix and Mavon amidst a small group of Rohan infantry, deep within the enemy.

"Third detachment!" she roared to her troops. "With me!"

She charged her horse right into the middle of the fray, her sword whistling through the air, hacking and hewing the enemy. Behind her, thirty spearmen of Gondor charged after her on foot, pushing through towards the wounded Kajano.

Xena cut her way through to Felix and Mavon just as they reached the Kajano. The massive beast had finally fallen, lying in a pool of luminous green blood and struggling to rise as it pulled several crossbow bolts from its flesh.

Mavon and Felix fired several shots at Orcs that had gotten too close, and then Felix dropped to one knee, inspecting the wounds on the fallen creature. He saw the ragged Two Eight One patch hanging from a portion of its armor. It was his former enemy, the one called Agran.

Felix sheathed his sword, fired several more shots. Then his hand clamped down on the wounded one's clawed hand, pulling it away from the bracer on his opposite wrist. On that bracer, a panel was open and several lights blinked expectantly.

"Hey big guy!" he shouted angrily as he slapped the small panel back down flush with the rest of the bracer. The self destruct sequence was aborted and the narrow lights on either side of the panel went out. "Not thinking of packing in are you?"

Felix reached beneath the massive shoulders and, ignoring the strain in his back, wrenched the creature off the ground as he began dragging the massive body backwards.

Xena's troops intercepted another group of Orcs, bent on finishing the fallen creature off.

Felix let the Agran fall back to earth and added five more shots to the attack, dropping two more Orcs that had broken through.

"Mave!" he shouted. "Help me with this guy!"

Mavon dropped his saber and bent to help Felix. The two grabbed one arm each and began hauling the seven foot creature back towards the safety of the rear.

"Don't you die on me you son of a bitch!" Felix growled at him. "You're the last proof in the universe that my old unit ever fucking existed!"

Xena spun around, dispatching her latest attacker, and checked her troops. All seemed to be holding well together. Then she saw the half dozen Orcs with crossbows charging forward.

The Orcs ignored Xena and her men, skirting the edge and making for a different target.

She saw them raise their weapons as they ran.

"Mavon! Felix!" she shouted. "On your left! Look out!"

The two men let the Kajano drop again and raised their weapons.

Felix's gun fired twice and then clicked ominously.

The entire universe slow to a terrifying crawl as he watch the remaining crossbow men raise their weapons, their yellow teeth glistening as they leered at him hungrily. The sounds of battle faded away until all he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating once, twice. Then he saw the crossbow's release.

"Oh shit!" he muttered.

Xena watched in horror as Felix recoiled from the impacts of several bolts. Mavon also caught two in the shoulder, and went down.

He rolled over, slapping a fresh clip into his pistol and then fired in rapid succession, felling the Orcs before they could reload.

"Doc!" he said, turning around.

Felix knelt there, an astonished expression on his face as he stared at the five bolts protruding from his chest.

"Well, isn't that a bitch," Felix muttered. Then he toppled forward over the body of the prone Kajano.

"Doc!" Mavon shouted.

"Felix!" Xena cried.

"Man down! Man down!" Mavon shouted, pulling is MP 9 free and unloading a long burst on another nearby group of Orcs. "I need Med-Evac now! Doc is down!" He kept shouting amidst his curses.

Suddenly the world around the fallen erupted in a cloud of violent blood and gore as three more Paldorian exploded into view, rending everything in their path with deafening cries of fury.

Many of the attacking Orcs panicked and fled in terror.

Two Tunju Kajano also dropped into view, landing behind the Triad. One of them grabbed Felix and lifted him from the ground and running back away from the battle, while the two more picked up the Paldorian called Agran and also dragged him clear.

Then the last two Paldorian's flanked Mavon and escorted him clear before the intervening Triad regrouped and charged back into the middle of the fiercest fighting.

Mavon dropped beside Felix and turned him over.

"Doc?" He cried out.

Felix stared up at the sky with bright eyes, but there was no longer any consciousness behind that gaze, only two prosthetic components sending signals to a brain that could no longer receive them.

Mavon felt rage boil up in his blood. He wrenched the crossbow bolts from his shoulder and struggled to his feet.

"Mavon!" Tyrion called over the coms. "Mavon! What's your status?"

Mavon ripped the com from his ear, his eyes clouded over with tears. He let out a roar so full of fury and anguish that it caused the soldiers around him to recoil.

Stumbling to his feet, he marched forward, firing his rifle at anything that moved. He was like a machine, turning and aiming automatically, spraying death among the Orcs near him.

Xena saw the infuriated, suicidal march and ran forward.

"Grab him!"" she ordered, cutting her way past a couple of Orcs. "Get him out of here!"

Several men stepped over and grabbed Mavon by the shoulder. He wrenched free of one, incapacitated another, turned and fired his weapon past Xena's head at the Orcs nearby before more hands wrapped him about the waist and shoulders.

Xena ducked aside and then watched helplessly as it took four Soldiers of Gondor to drag the writhing Mavon, screaming in mad rage, from the battlefield.

The battle went on until deep into the night before the victory was assured. The few surviving Orcs fled into the darkness with the enraged Kajano in silent pursuit.

As the men of Gondor went about the grisly task of separating their own dead from those of the Orcs, they occasionally saw blue flashes of light at ground level, like distant lightning. And with each flash, they knew that another surviving enemy had been brought down.

At Korbal's request, the slain enemies were left untouched by the men of Rohan.

It had been Tyrion's intention that no word of the battle should get back to Isengard, especially since the enemy had been defeated so utterly. It was a stratagem that the bloodthirsty Kajano were more than willing to indulge.

In spite of their superior armor and weapons, sheer force of numbers had cost the Kajano two of their Paldorian brethren.

Things were progressing well at the makeshift field hospital as well. Nicolla and Allister concentrated on the most seriously injured, utilizing the advanced equipment of the ship to heal flesh, mend bones, and other traumas while Gabrielle and the other healers on the outside tended those less critically wounded.

Since the first wave of wounded had begun to arrive, they had continued, non stop, for nearly fourteen hours.

As the moon crested the rolling hills, Gabrielle and the other healers looked up to see a progression of more wounded, most on horseback, coming towards them. At the head of the formation were Eomer and his surviving knights as well as Tyrion, Silas, Xena, and Mavon, seated on the back of one of the horses.

Behind the king came men bearing biers holding some of the fallen.

Gabrielle ran out towards the column her eyes wide.

"Felix?" she asked desperately.

Xena looked at her with a mournful expression and slowly shook her head.

"No," Gabrielle whispered. She tried to push past her friend to the bier that held the young man, but Xena wrapped her arms about Gabrielle's shoulders and held her back as the sobs began.

The column came to a halt, and two soldiers helped the wounded Mavon back to the ground, leading him to a spot near some of the less wounded. Mavon ignored their invitation to sit down among them. Instead, he strode towards the ship and vanished within.

As soon as he entered the cabin, Nicolla felt the anguishing wave of emotion wash over her. She looked up to see Mavon standing there, his one arm in a makeshift sling, still bleeding from two vicious wounds.

"Patch me up," he said simply, stepping over to the Colonel.

"We are tending to critically wounded men at the moment, Lieutenant," Allister began, but Mavon wheeled the elder man around and backed him into a corner.

"I said, patch me up," he growled angrily.

"Mavon," Nicolla began.

"Step up or step off!" Mavon blurted. He fixed his pale eyes on Allister. "Patch me up, right now!"

Allister's eyes locked with Mavon's measuring the man before him.

"Captain Sheil," he said after a moment. "See to Lieutenant Mavonski, if you will?"

"Yes sir," Nicolla complied.

Gabrielle sat, despondent, with Xena's arms wrapped around her shoulders in a vain attempt to comfort her.

Before her lay Felix, the two dead Kajano, and the other Knights of Rohan that had fallen protecting the King and the elder Kajano, Korbal.

As the first red rays of dawn began to glow in the sky, the Kajano reappeared on the battlefield, and to the horror of all who beheld them, they began to systematically skin and bone the Orcs. The air echoed with the sickening squelching and crunching sounds of a slaughterhouse.

The Kajano ordered their kills into organized piles of leathery flesh, broken armor, weapons, and polished bone which shone like bloody ivory in the light of the sunrise.

Eomer and his captains watched this from the top of the hill.

"This is unholy," Argoman said in disgust.

"Of one thing, Master Felix was quite clear," Eomer said grimly. "Their ways are not our ways, just as ours are not the ways of Master Tyrion and his people. Let them be. It is well enough that these Kajano have allowed us to pay respect to our dead in our way. This concession is wise and benefits all."

"Yes, My Lord," Argoman nodded, still clearly uneasy about the desecration he was beholding.

It was late into the day before the reason of the calculated butchery became evident.

Two of the Paldorians began ordering the bones, flesh and armor components into a neat and tightly stacked rectangular pile, interlocking spines and skulls in complex fashion. The end result was a snake like writhing of many bones intermingled and mortared in place by the dried flesh and armor of the Orcs.

Then four of the Kajano planted their pikes at the corners of the grisly monument. Thin metallic netting was affixed to the points forming a cradle above what was plainly a massive pyre.

Those tasked with the burial of Rohan's dead watched in mute horror as the Kajano, their armor and weapons now cleaned and polished to shining hues of deep oily black and midnight blue clustered together before marching up towards the medical camp.

Tyrion looked up from the data pad that he was studying. It had belonged to Felix and contained the notes he had recorded regarding his experience with the Kajano. Unlike the others, Felix had often recorded his notes on audio instead of writing them out.

Now his voice emanated from the pad, like a ghost.

"_When I first started speaking with the one called Korbal, I immediately became aware of two things: First that their culture was a lot more complex than anything we had surmised in the past. It was more akin to a warrior culture as opposed to a hunter's one. Yes they tend to be incredibly predacious, and view anyone armed as a potential threat that must be confronted. Only when confronted by someone who is incapable of pressing an attack, such as myself, or more importantly, females of child bearing age, will they stop and consider. I also learned that the killing of any female carrying a child is the only law in their world where they punish with execution. Strange that they would see this as a cardinal rule, but to them the repopulation of life maintains the balance that they claim to serve._

_The second thing I discovered was that Korbal was not an atypical Kajano. He seemed more inquisitive than most, and much more patient. He has thoughtfulness about him that I was able to perceive since I could not see him physically before me. He looks beyond the moment of the hunt, as he calls it, and studies other aspects. He is, apparently, highly regarded among the elders of his world, as is his family. He also was able to more quickly assimilate and translate our language, bridging the gap quickly to the point where, after an amazingly short period of time, he was speaking coherently in complete sentences. Yes there were misunderstandings – concepts that took a little while for him to grasp, but the important thing was that he wanted to understand them instead of reverting to type, which is violent and aggressive. Had I been attempting this with any other, even his children, I doubt very much that the talks would have gone as well as they did. As it is, he understands a lot more than he lets on and judges merit based on actions more so than his counterparts, I would assume."_

Korbal and four Paldorians stepped up to the bodies of the fallen Paldor. Two each, lifted the biers and began bearing them down to the grisly pyre they had constructed.

"_The other thing that I found interesting is their capacity for emotional bonds,"_ Felix's voice continued. _"They have the same respect, and I might even go so far as to say love as would any sentient family unit. They celebrate together and mourn together in spite of an independence of spirit that borders on fanatical. While they are totally self sufficient in the field, and yet they still maintain their social bonds with just as much fanaticism._

_Is that the right word for it? Ah well, Nicky will grade my paper later._

_To them, death by old age has a stigma that is undesirable. Nearly all Kajano die in combat of some type or other. Even the most grievously scarred or wounded will remain actively engaged in the hunts and combat, even if they know they might be slain. Death in the hunt, or on the battlefield, is the highest honor in their culture, and they live for it._

_I managed to calculate the age of Korbal, based on his description of lunar cycles on his home world, and, granted, I might be off a bit here, but it seems that their life cycle is at about a three to one ratio to normal sapiens, which means that they live three times as long as us. Korbal, I estimate, is probably well over two hundred standard years old, which is rare in his culture. He isn't just an elder of his people, he is THE elder of his people, and one might even call him a king in the current context of the world we're visiting at the moment._

_Like the rest of us, he and his cadre were brought to this world, and like us, they are searching for a way home. Whether they were in a ship, like us, or simply transported here, like Xena and Gabrielle, Korbal wasn't willing to discuss, but they each have one of those strange red crystals, just like us. I think those crystals are key to the whole puzzle, but just how, I haven't been able to figure out yet. If this little alliance that we've forged actually makes it through the battle tomorrow, we might have one hell of a tool to help us find or way home, and a fucking huge advantage in any confrontations that might arise during our search. I only hope I can keep those lines of communication open without offending them in a way that turns them against us. If that happens, getting home will be the last thing we worry about. _

_Damn, its tough being the smartest kid in the class."_

Tyrion smiled as the recording ceased, then he saw two more Kajano, one of them the wounded Agran, moving towards the bier that held Felix's body, draped with a shroud. The other was the one that Gabrielle and Xena had come to know as Thegar, the one that they had encountered on their world.

One of Agran's arms was supported by a metallic brace, holding the limb in place against his chest.

The two of them stooped at either end of the bier and lifted Felix up.

Gabrielle and Xena also saw this, and Gabrielle, with tears still streaming down her face, ran towards them, outraged.

"Leave him alone!" she shouted angrily.

Xena caught her and held her at bay, whispering in her ear.

"Haven't you done enough to him!" Gabrielle cried. "Leave him alone!"

The two emotionless face plates turned to look at her.

She gazed at Agran with barely contained hatred. "It's your fault! He's dead because of you!"

Tyrion stepped over to the bier and looked from one expressionless mask to the other.

"_One of us!"_ Agran growled.

Tyrion looked back at Gabrielle, struggling against Xena's hold, then back at the two aliens and he nodded. He reached out and pulled the shroud off of the bier exposing Felix's body to view.

"One of us," Tyrion nodded, letting the cloth fall to the ground.

The two Kajano turned and bore Felix away towards the massive bony pyre.

By the end of the day, a large mound had been raised over the fallen men of Rohan and the unused remains of the Orcs had been set alight in the distance. The ashes still smoldered as the sun began to sink.

The ten remaining Kajano stood vigil around their monument, emotionless and unmoving. They allowed no one to approach the fallen, standing with pikes in their clawed hands.

Tyrion walked along the top of the hill, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, forgotten amidst his thoughts.

"Master Chief," A voice called him from his revere. He turned and found Mavon walking up to him, his expression was grim and his eyes filled with angry fire.

"What's on your mind, Mave?" Tyrion asked.

"We got six Drop Tops and fifteen hundred twenty millimeter IC rounds on the Phoenix." Mavon said darkly. "I say we take off and fucking use them!"

"Frank," Tyrion started.

"We've been playing this game their way since we got here, Chief," Mavon blurted out. "And so far it's gotten one of us killed when we could have fixed this from a distance! They play things up close, rough, and dirty on this world! I say we show them just how dirty we can play!"

"What do you want to do, Frank?" Tyrion asked. "How far do you want to go with this?"

Mavon turned and looked back at the tents in the field below. "Eomer is planning on heading out with the army tomorrow, to lay siege to this Isengard joint," He spat. "A siege, boss! A fucking siege! I say the hell with that! Let's take off in the morning, use every bit of ordinance we got and have the door open for him when he gets there! Just wipe the fuckers off the god damned map once and for all!"

Tyrion looked down at the pyre surrounded by the Kajano. "You aren't saying anything I haven't already considered, buddy," He offered. "But I also have to think about what we might need in the future."

"You're kidding, right?" Mavon scoffed. "You telling me that you're gonna just sit here and do nothing about this?"

"I didn't say that!" Tyrion shot back. "But there are bigger issues to consider here. We can't just start blasting out chunks of their world."

"Hold it!" Mavon said angrily. "This may be their world, but this is _our _fucking show! They wanna play this primitive game, I say we play it by our rules, not theirs! Ours! Someone or something brought us here! Now, if that same someone takes one of us down, then they pay for it! That's the way we always played it in the past! Don't you dare go fucking wuss on me now!"

Tyrion turned a smoldering gaze on Mavon.

"Sorry," he growled menacingly. "What was that last part? I didn't hear you."

Mavon caught himself, realizing that he had pushed a bit too much. He considered for a moment, and then he turned and walked down the hill.

"Brothers to the bone, Chief," he turned and looked back at Tyrion. "Remember that? Brothers to the bone!"

He turned and headed down towards the pyre.

Tyrion watched him go, trying to quench the fiery wrath burning through his veins and failing miserably. He knew he should remain detached, but this loss hit so close to home that detachment was something he would never achieve. Besides, on a personal note, the more he considered, the more he agreed with his colleague. And the more he agreed with his colleague, the more violent his plans became.

The moon was up and shining pale in the sky when Korbal finally let the others approach to a respectful distance of the burial monument.

When the company was about forty feet away from the honor guard, Korbal gestured for them to stop.

He removed his face plate and began walking around the pyre, like a general inspecting his troops. As he fixed his red eyes on each Kajano, that one also removed his face plate and sheathed his pike with military precision before turning to face the pyre. Each one began a low, monotonous growl. With each guard, the growl increased in volume until all of them, including Korbal was growling ominously.

Korbal completed his circuit of the pyre and then turned to face the others.

Suddenly, Agran broke ranks and stepped up before the body of Felix. He reached up with his good hand and ripped the two eighty first unit patch from his armor, setting it upon the chest of Felix's body before returning to his position.

Korbal locked eyes with Eomer, Tyrion, Xena, Gabrielle and lastly Mavon.

In that moment, Tyrion realized something remarkable. They were, perhaps the first and only non Kajano to witness the burial rites of this race of warriors.

Korbal's massive arms reached upwards. Then as one, the entire formation splayed their clawed hands, dropped into a crouch with their heads turned skyward. Their mouths spread wide in a ghastly display and the growls erupted in a deafening bellow that shook the ground beneath their feet. It carried beyond the field, echoing against the distant hills and filled the entire valley with its horrific song.

The ten plasma cannons on the shoulders of the honor guard each fired one pale blue bolt, incinerating the pyre in an eruption of greenish fire that vaporized the entire mass in a matter of seconds.

When the roar faded and the smoke cleared, there was nothing left but the cradle and a large charred circle in the earth.

From that day forward, nothing grew in that patch of land.

Once the memorial was concluded, Eomer held a called a council in his tent.

Allister, Xena, Argoman, Breggolard, Hallas, and Korbal all stood around the large table which held a map of the surrounding lands while Tyrion paced slowly back and forth.

"The enemy is only a half days march from us here," Eomer began. "At dawn, I shall take the army north, across the River Isen, to Isengard with the hopes that we should be able to assail the stronghold. If we can breach the gates, Orthanc should fall within hours."

"Oh, it'll fall alright," Tyrion nodded, still smoldering in his wrath.

"Master Tyrion?" Eomer asked.

"One of my men is dead, King!" Tyrion growled. If anything, the time between his conversation with Mavon and the funeral had only augmented his wrath. "We played the game your way and one of my best men is dead at the hand of a bunch of backward primitives!" His furious gaze fixed momentarily on Allister. "If we had played this my way and not pussy footed around some back ass regs from a confederation that could be light years away, I could have wiped out every god damned Orc between here and the fucking mountains!" He slammed his fist on the table causing it to bounce.

"Alright, now you know what I'm gonna do?" Tyrion continued, fixing Eomer with a furious gaze. Then he turned and pointed at Xena.

"Tyrion," Xena started.

"I'm gonna load out every piece of hardware I can get working and then I'm gonna wipe out every last one of those sons of bitches AND level the entire fortress of Isengard if it's the last thing I ever do!" Tyrion bellowed.

He looked over at the massive form of Korbal. "You in?"

The big alien nodded his head once.

"Tread carefully, mister," Allister cautioned.

"Gentlemen," Eomer said gently, ignoring Tyrion's disrespectful outburst. "We have all lost friends this day. And the desire for vengeance fills each of our hearts tonight. Trust me when I say that all of our losses will be avenged ere this war ends, but we must tread carefully lest we engage a foe too great for our combined strength."

"_He's angry. Just the way we need him to be. He's so blinded right now that he will commit everything against Orthanc and do exactly what he says he will do. Which is precisely what is needed. With the crown already on its way to us, the loss of Orthanc is a small inconvenience that can easily be overcome. Still, the greater threat is his ship. With that, he could easily overtake the caravan heading north. It must be dealt with."_

"_His ship? That'll be no problem. It's a simple vessel, and in spite of all the mods it's had, it can't handle much. When they hit Isengard, there'll be a few surprises in store for them that should take care of that threat permanently. Don't sweat that."_

"_You're certain you can deal with that?"_

"_Trust me. I know that man."_

"With all due respect, Sir," Tyrion spat. "I've had the means at my disposal to end this for some time, and it is due to the council of others," He looked pointedly at Allister again. "That I have not chosen to utilize them! No more!"

He looked around the table at the expectant faces. "Something brought us here! Other countries, other worlds, it doesn't matter. Now I believe that same something sent this army after us! Now, I don't know who or what it is, but I'm not playing this penny ante bullshit any more! We have the tools and the talent! It's time for us to use them!"

Eomer looked long at Tyrion. After a few moments he sighed and nodded.

"If that is your wish, then I cannot prevent it. You may undertake this quest if this last warning does not move you." He said grimly. "Orthanc was a wizard's stronghold. The place holds strange powers, they say. Powers that none can comprehend. If you choose to assail the fortress of Orthanc, beware."

"_That's right. Feed him your superstition and watch him shove it in the trash."_

"We're going," Tyrion growled fiercely.

"As you wish." Eomer nodded. "We shall move as swiftly as we may to aid you."

Gabrielle stood at the charred remains of the pyre, the tears still running down her cheeks, her heart felt like lead in her chest. Beneath the waves of sadness was regret. Regret at not being more open to the possibility of them. Regret at not having the courage to act, even if it had been for only a short time. She was saddened at the loss and angry at the way she and Felix had been cheated of a moment.

"Hey you," Xena's voice said softly behind her.

Gabrielle didn't turn. She just fixed her eyes on the blackened earth before her.

"Hi," She sniffed.

Xena's hand came down gently on her shoulder.

"You know," Gabrielle said bitterly. "I think it's me."

"What?" Xena replied in shock. "Gabrielle don't ever think that."

"No," Gabrielle replied, her anger building now. "I think it is." She looked up at Xena and smiled bitterly.

"Gabrielle," Xena started. "There's no way that you could have been responsible for this and you know it."

"You should be dead too," Gabrielle continued. "If it hadn't have been for Tyrion showing up when he did, you'd be dead as well. Or perhaps that's the price for me not dying back then."

Xena turned the young bard around and looked into her eyes.

"Stop this right now," she said sternly.

"I survived!" Gabrielle shot back. "Don't you understand? Tyrion saved my life after Thessalonia, and ever since then, look at everything that's happened? First you, then Perdicus, Solan, Hope, oh Gods," she fell back into sobs as she turned away, trying to stem the tide of emotion.

"And now Felix." Her breath shuddered. "Gods, I start to love someone and it's as good as signing their death warrant."

"Gabrielle," Xena started.

"You know the worst part of it?" Gabrielle turned back towards her friend, her face an expression of torment.

"I was ready!" Gabrielle went on. "He made me feel good about myself again, Xena! He made me want to be close to someone again! In spite everything that's happened to me, he made me feel like I could love someone or be with someone and not be ashamed of what I went through! Around him, I didn't feel tainted anymore! I finally worked up the courage to," she stopped and laughed bitterly. Then her expression began to twist into something painful again. "He was right about that too, and he let me come to that conclusion on my own, without pushing! He respected my feelings, Xena! He respected me and what I went through, and he didn't push anything, even though I could see it in his eyes! And I didn't have the courage enough to trust him," her voice broke again and she collapsed into sobs.

After a long while, Gabrielle gained some semblance of control over her emotions and sniffed again. "I'll be alright," she lied. She tried a smile, but failed.

Xena placed a hand around Gabrielle's shoulder and held her for a few moments.

"I miss him," Gabrielle whispered as she stared at the blackened earth.

"So do I, Gabrielle," Xena nodded. "So do I."

Xena couldn't see the stony expression on Gabrielle's face. She felt only sadness emanating from her best friend, but that was all. Behind the sad, tired eyes of the young bard, a plan had begun to form. She had been impotent to claim vengeance in the past, but she wouldn't be this time. Even as the despair settled, the cold wrath took hold and she swore she wouldn't hold back again.

When they finally parted. Gabrielle found herself wandering up near the ship where Allister and Nicolla were once again tending to the wounded while Tyrion, Mavon and Silas were busy stripping out any unnecessary medical equipment that could be used beyond the confines of the vessel. The patients were all comfortable and being watched over. Many men with wounds that would have been considered fatal were now recovering.

Tyrion paused in his labors only long enough to give her a nod in greeting, and then went back to checking everything that had been removed.

"Whats all this?" Gabrielle asked.

"Just prepping for action tomorrow," Tyrion replied.

Gabrielle nodded even as Tyrion leaned into the hatch and said something to Silas before he and Mavon departed, heading for a nearby tent.

Quietly, she stepped over towards the hatch to get a better look, and saw the massive man going over the weapons that Tyrion's people used.

The main cabin was empty, for the most part. Only four beds remained functioning. The rest lay behind her on the ground.

Gabrielle knocked quietly on the side of the hatch.

"Hey Lil Bit," Silas greeted, though his deep rumbling voice seemed filled with a heaviness that he was attempting to mask. "How you doin?"

Gabrielle forced a smile that was as genuine as Silas's levity.

"I'll be okay," she said. Then she looked at the components on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Weapons check," Silas replied. "Gotta strip em, clean em, and get em recharged."

He invited the young bard inside with a wave of his hand. Then he focused again on his work.

There were two remaining patients still hooked up to the monitors, both of them were unconscious. She stepped inside and leaned against one of the unoccupied beds, watching as Silas expertly snapped the components of his massive AS-2 rifle together.

He seemed to do it with very little concentration. It was as if his muscles remembered the sequence of steps for each weapon. He set the massive rifle down and disassembled the second one, quickly checking and cleaning the parts before that, too was reassembled and stacked neatly against the first. Then he lifted one of the smaller MP-9 compact rifles and began disassembling it. The energy clip was plugged into a wall unit behind him, something that looked as if it had been hastily cobbled together using other components from the ship.

Gabrielle watched as Silas went through each rifle until he reached the last one. Then he set the parts out on the white towel before him and sighed.

"Can you sit tight a second," he asked. "Someone needs to stick around and keep an eye on the patients and I am hankering for a smoke something fierce?"

Gabrielle smiled again. "Sure."

"I always knew you were a nice kid," Silas smiled. "I'll be back in five minutes. Just leave these be till I get back." He gestured to the unassembled weapon on the table.

"No problem," Gabrielle replied.

As soon as Silas had stepped through the hatch, Gabrielle stepped quickly up to the table and studied the various components on the table before her.

While the technology and machinery were still completely alien to her, she could still sense a vague recognition of the components before her, like being on the edge of a dream.

"_What Nicky did,"_ she remembered Felix saying. _"Is essentially program your mind with her life experiences, to a point. She gave you the practical knowledge you would need to pass as a member of our society when you were on the drift, or helping in the field."_

"_I wonder how far it goes?"_ Gabrielle had asked with an excited grin_. "I mean, will I be able to invent fabulous machines when I get back home, or jump my planet's technology ahead? Maybe teach Archimedes a thing or two?"_

He had chuckled at that and then she had seen that desire in his eyes when he had looked back at her, smiling.

"_You misunderstand,"_ he had explained. _"The knowledge she gave you is practical, not technical. You'll know how things work without knowing the principles behind their function. It's a variation on a procedure that Tellers sometimes use in order to aid people in judicial cases or with certain mental deficiencies. They can help bring knowledge to the surface, or even lend a little strength to a frightened mind. Simple stuff like that. Some of the higher level military Tellers like Nicky can also do intelligence extraction and reprogramming, though I hear it's a real mind bitch to deal with."_

"_Intelligence extraction?"_

"_Yeah,"_ Felix had smiled. _"But in your case, though, I think she did the reverse. She added intel to your brain, kind of reprogramming you with pieces of what she learned at the academy."_

"Like how to put these weapons together?" Gabrielle wondered as she stared down at the table. She forced her mind to quiet, staring at the pieces of the weapon before her.

"Don't think," she muttered to herself. "Just let it happen."

Her fingers reached out to one of the pieces. She let her muscles guide her, not applying nay rationale to her actions. Then something in the back of her mind clicked.

Her hands picked up one part and then a second, finding the slots needed, then a third, and fourth. Her eyes were unfocused, almost closed as she heard the weapon come together under her hands with sharp clicks and pops as components slipped neatly into place. Somewhere in her mind a voice began to echo, strange and unfamiliar, but distinct, as if the speaker were standing right behind her.

"_Slide the firing chamber housing over the projectile barrel and affix to the trigger mechanism, then attach the forward grip stock over the projectile barrel making sure that the forward grip stock affixes to the magnetic seal at the front of the barrel assembly leaving a two inch section of barrel to mate with the trigger housing, flip the weapon butt down on the table and attach the two completed assemblies together with a quarter twist handle side to the hand grip. Check safety, clear magazine port, cock, inspect and align sights…"_

When she opened her eyes, the final sections of the weapon snapped together into one completed unit. She raised it, pulled back the cocking mechanism, checking the inside of the chamber for corrosion or damage, then she let it snap back into place, flipped the safety switch to SAFE and pulled the weapon sharply into firing position, resting the butt of the stock against her shoulder as she spun and sighted through the small targeting lens…and saw Silas standing in the hatch with a cigar forgotten between his teeth.

Gabrielle quickly set the weapon on the table. "Sorry, I was, um, I just wanted to see if,"

"What the hell was that?" Silas asked.

She looked at him with a touch of childish embarrassment. "I wanted to see if I could do it."

Silas stepped into the cabin, looking at the young bard critically.

"If you busted this thing," he growled. "The Chief'll have my ass."

He held the weapon up and checked it carefully, his critical gaze giving way to one of surprise.

"Did I break it?" Gabrielle asked as Silas expertly disassembled the weapon and laid the parts out.

"Nope," Silas smiled appreciatively. "Now, let me see you pull that shit again."

With a confident grin, Gabrielle stepped up to the table, her eyes looking down at the components before her as she invoked that instructor's voice once more.

Her hands move with unnatural precision over the table as she took up the components and expertly slapped the weapon together in under one minute, setting the weapon on the table and taking two steps back from it just as if she were in a training drill.

Silas inspected the rifle again and shook his head.

"I'll be god damned," he said appreciatively. "How much shit did Nicky stuff into that brain pot of yours?"

"I'm beginning to wonder," Gabrielle mused. Then she leaned down against the table and fixed the big man with a knowing look.

"I need your help with something, Silas," she said evenly. "And don't tell me you can't do it either."

"Okay?" Silas replied warily.

"I want to know about all your gear," Gabrielle asked. "But I want to know if I know it right, so I want you to listen and tell me where I make a mistake, alright?"

Silas breathed a sigh of relief. "Shit, that ain't no big thing. I thought you was gonna ask to be on the mission tomorrow."

"What?" Gabrielle said in a disarming tone. "I wouldn't know the first thing about that stuff."

"Then what do you want a quiz on the TAC gear for?" Silas asked.

"Just curious," Gabrielle replied.

At that response, Silas raised one eyebrow. "Come on, Lil Bit. There's more going on in that melon of yours than that."

"I just want to know, that's all," Gabrielle shot back a little more sharply than she intended to. Silas could see some of the hurt in her eyes.

"Hey," he said gently.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Gabrielle sighed, leaning on the table and resting her head against her forearms for a moment. After several deep breaths she looked up, her eyes were welling up again.

"I just, I can't think about it any more," she started. "I want to think about something else, alright? I just want to take my mind off of,"

"I get you," Silas raised a large hand, stopping her. He looked down at the newly assembled MP-9 and shook his head.

"Okay short stuff, TAC one oh one final, coming right up." He said. He went to a nearby panel and pressed a small sensor plate near the floor with his toe. It slid aside revealing a hidden and locked storage locker. Silas entered a code on a small keypad and pulled the inner door open revealing ten complete uniforms hanging neatly within, two for each member of Tyrion's team.

Silas removed one and hung it on a peg near the opening. He then proceeded to give Gabrielle a comprehensive examination on the equipment that he and his friends used.

Over the next hour, Silas offered a lot of details, trying to flood Gabrielle with information she could mull over. Like the others, he understood the necessity for keeping oneself occupied after a loss, lest the rest of the team give in to despair.

Besides that, he was amazed at how much the young girl fromt eh Low Tech World actually knew. He was pretty certain she didn't understand it all, but her basic knowledge was quite good.

Gabrielle listened carefully whenever Silas corrected her on some point, asked a myriad of questions, and patiently listened and digested the answers.

By the time the tutorial was concluded, the night was dark and deep. The moon had sunk beyond the western horizon, and only the stars illuminated the field about them.

Silas hung the equipment back up carefully and began stowing the rifles and other equipment in the appropriate cabinets. Suddenly he stopped and yawned like a cavern.

"That is some freaky ass shit," Silas said with a grin.

"How long have you got to stay here tonight?" Gabrielle asked quickly.

Silas cursed. "I got another four hours before Mavon shows his scrawny ass." He stretched and seated himself on another of the beds.

Gabrielle watched the worn out soldier for a few minutes and smiled.

"I can stay until Mavon gets here, if you like?" she offered.

Silas smiled. "Thanks, but I told the chief I'd sit tight for this one."

Gabrielle nodded and moved towards the hatch even as Silas rubbed his eyes and yawned again.

"Silas," she turned back and fixed him with a critical look. "You're exhausted. Go get some rest, please?"

"Sorry kiddo," Silas shook his head. "I got orders."

"Uh huh," Gabrielle reached over and plucked the coms unit from the big man's ear.

"Tyrion," she called.

"Yes?" his voice replied.

"It's Gabrielle," she said. "I'm over in the ship with Silas, and he's almost asleep on his feet. I can take his watch if you don't mind?"

"I figured you wanted some time to yourself?" Tyrion replied. "With everything that's just happened."

"I know," Gabrielle cut him off. "I just don't want to feel useless right now, you know? I need something to occupy my time." She paused and her tone sobered. "Besides, I doubt if I'm going to get much sleep tonight anyway."

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally she heard Tyrion sigh. "Okay, Gabs. Tell Silas to hit the sack and I'll have Mavon there in about four hours."

"Okay," Gabrielle smiled. She removed the device and handed it back to Silas.

"Tyrion says for you to hit the sack."

Silas smiled appreciatively. "You're a good kid, Gabs."

Gabrielle set her small traveling bag on the table and began going through her scrolls and parchments. She drew one out and prepared to begin writing upon it.

"If you need anything," Silas offered, pointing at the coms switch on the small control panel next to the hatch. "Just give me a shout, okay."

Gabrielle offered a smile and nodded. "Good night, Silas."

"Night, Lil Bit," Silas replied and he vanished through the hatch into the shadows beyond.

As soon as his heavy footfalls were beyond earshot, Gabrielle reached into her bag and drew out the long, narrow black box that Felix had presented to her before they left Minas Tirith. Within were the two small pistols she had been loath to touch up to this point.

Now she disassembled and checked them as efficiently as any of the others, making certain they were operable and that the small clips each held full charges.

Then she stepped over to the first storage cabinet. It was locked, with access granted by that five digit access code.

She pondered the small keypad for a while. Then she closed her eyes and let her mind sink deeper into the borrowed knowledge she had gleaned from her new friends.

Silas sat down on the small cot in the tent that he and Tyrion shared. He kicked off his boots and lay down, feeling some of the stress of the previous days actions begin to melt away. A stray thought occurred to him and he hit the switch on his coms.

"Hey, Gabs?" he called.

After a moment, the young girls' voice answered.

"I forgot to mention," Silas said easily. "There's some extra chow in the cooler and drinks too, if you get hungry later."

"Oh," Gabrielle replied. "Okay, thanks."

There was a click and the channel disconnected. Silas sighed and let sleep drift over him.

He hadn't even realized he had slept as long as he had when his eyes snapped open again. There was a sense of vague dread knotting in his belly. He had no reason for it, just a hunch that would not diminish.

He lay there for a short time, trying to narrow the sensation to something definite. A place, a person, anything?

The only thing that kept circling through his mind was Gabrielle, and he couldn't figure out why? Then he sighed. He was feeling guilty. Yes they were all dealing with the loss of a friend, but Gabrielle was dealing with the death of Felix on a much more personal level, and she was trying to put on a brave front, help the others, and even ease their suffering a little. Silas thought about that. Had anyone besides Xena even offered to do the same in some way for her?

Groaning, he swung his feet down to the ground and got up.

A short time later, he was walking back towards the ship, intent on spending time with the tiny bard. He may not be able to heal her sorrow, but he was sure going to try.

The first sign that all was not well was the complete lack of movement inside the hatch. Silas checked his chrono. Mavon and Gabrielle should be in the middle of a shift change, and that would mean a little overlap while they exchange pleasantries.

No voices drifted from the open hatch. No shadows moved within. All was still and silent.

He reached the hatch and looked inside. The only occupants were the two patients still on life support in the main cabin. Nothing else moved in the ship.

Silas stepped up into the cabin and looked about, his dark eyes finding a single object on the table. He picked up the coms unit and hit the send key. Instantly, the circuit connected and revealed the owners name in tiny blue letters.

"Mavon"

"Son of a bitch," Silas muttered, activating his own com. "Boss, we might have a problem."

He moved through the cabin and towards the flight deck, making sure everything was in order. Then he stepped through the small hatch and his foot came down on something soft.

Looking down, he discovered a hastily piled bundle of clothing and a small hand made shoulder bag. They were all Gabrielle's belongings.

His momentary confusion solidified to icy fear and he turned back and quickly inspected the secure hatches.

One of the smaller unsecured drawers was slightly ajar, but the others were still sealed and locked.

Frowning, Silas pulled it open. The box was gone. Felix's little present of two pistols to Gabrielle was missing. What else was missing?

"Chief, Xe," Silas called out. "I need you on ship, now! I think we might have a problem."

Silas waited until Tyrion and Xena arrived before the three of them executed a thorough search of the ship.

Xena looked down at Gabrielle's discarded clothing and traveling bag.

"This doesn't make any sense," she said helplessly. "Why would she leave all this behind?"

Silas popped open the storage locker and froze.

"Son of a bitch!" he muttered.

"What have you got?" Tyrion asked.

Silas stepped aside and pulled the storage locker door fully open, revealing the spare uniforms.

Tyrion and Xena looked at one another in surprise and then at the empty spaces in the storage locker.

"Get these patients moved to the new infirmary tent and inventory everything, right now!" Tyrion barked. "And tell me who the last person was to access these lockers!"

"You got it," Silas replied.

Nicolla stepped into the main cabin of the ship with an air of palpable trepidation. Before her, three sets of eyes stared expectantly.

"Now," Tyrion said slowly. He looked at Silas. "Tell me what all is missing?"

Silas sighed. "As far as I can tell, we're missing one complete TAC set, one surveillance package, one complete uniform, two MP-9's with six spare mags, one P-7 with two spare mags, eight M-67's and two demolitions satchels. Whoever did this knew exactly what to take."

"I think we all know who did it," Tyrion said. "What I really want to know is how someone from an L.T. planet managed to hotwire the security locks on our storage lockers?"

"She didn't," Silas replied.

"What do you mean?" Xena asked.

"According to the access logs, there was never any tampering with the system." Silas said dutifully. "She had an access code."

"What?" Tyrion replied. "I never gave her a code!"

"She used Nicky's access code to break into the weapons locker," Silas said, turning his dark eyes on the small red haired woman.

Nicolla took a couple steps backward and raised her hands. "Hang on a second," she protested. "I never gave her my access code!"

"Well," Tyrion replied. "Then how did she get it?"

"Was it written down anywhere?" Silas pressed.

Nicolla glared at him. "No, it isn't written down anywhere. It's right here!" she pointed at her temple. "And I sure as Hell didn't tell anyone!"

Xena considered for a moment. "Maybe you did."

All three of them looked at her.

"What?" Silas asked.

"Maybe she did, without meaning to," Xena explained. "Nicky, you told me that you gave her some basic information in order for her to assimilate herself in your world without drawing too much attention, right?"

"Yeah," Nicolla replied. "But all I gave her was some basic knowledge that she could draw on in order to help with the mission to rescue you, three years ago. I never gave her anything like access codes or combat training or any of those things!"

"Not then," Xena said. "But what about when you found us in Minas Tirith?"

Nicolla frowned.

"What did you need to do to wake Gabrielle up?" Xena asked.

Nicolla offered a shrug. "She had withdrawn, almost completely. I had to go in pretty deep to find her, but there wasn't any information exchange when I did that, I swear it!"

"Are you sure?" Xena asked.

"Of course," Nicolla replied.

"Remember when I told you that I thought Gabrielle had been acting a little strangely?" Xena pressed. "And now, the more I think about things, there have been events before now that may have been a part of that first encounter between you two. Like when she killed that woman in Britannia and more recently when we were ambushed on the way here."

"Oh come on," Silas said. "Nicky knows what she's doing. She wouldn't have given Lil Bit stuff like that," Then he looked at Nicolla. "Would you?"

Nicolla returned his inquisitive gaze with a frosty one of her own.

"Not on purpose," Xena agreed. "But what if Gabrielle took it?"

"I told you before, Xena," Nicolla explained. "I only gave her enough to get by, and later, when I woke her back up, I merely went in and guided her mind back to the conscious world. I didn't give her anything else!"

"But you also told me that you had to touch her mind to guide her back," Xena said evenly. "She might have taken it from you without you knowing."

Nicolla seemed to digest that.

"How the hell is Gabrielle going to hijack Intel from Nicky's mind like that?" Tyrion blurted.

"Quiet," Nicolla cut him off. "She's making sense."

"You told me that people with a latent ability can sometimes inadvertently take information, knowledge, even some personality traits from people like you without you knowing it." Xena explained. They could all see Xena's gaze turn inwards as she searched her memory.

"I saw the body after Gabrielle killed that woman," she said carefully. "And she managed to stab upward at just the right angle to come beneath the ribs and into the heart. At the time, I considered it just a lucky stab, but now, after remembering everything else, I think that was a part of your training that instinctually took hold. Ordinarily, Gabrielle would have probably dropped the knife."

"The 'what if' theory isn't going to help here," Tyrion said evenly.

Xena ignored him, pursuing her line of thought. "Nicky, you said yourself that the mind is a tricky thing. Could Gabrielle have taken a little more from you the first time, and more this most recent time?"

"She'd have to be a pretty high level Teller for her to get away with that, and not make me aware of it." Nicolla said.

"Unless your guard was down," Xena's eyebrows rose. "One thing I've noticed about all of you, and I mean no offense, but when you look at us Low Tech people, you assume a lot."

Nicolla's expression went from concerned to pained and she let a soft groan escape her lips.

"Just because our technology isn't as advanced as yours, doesn't necessarily mean that other things aren't as well." Xena finished. "And I've underestimated Gabrielle before myself. Maybe you did too? You put these blocks up to keep her from remembering everything that happened two years ago, and they worked for a while, until she began to have these flashes. She thought they were nightmares at first, but then later, just before the storm that brought us here, she purposely tried to force her memories to the surface."

"What?" Nicolla said. "You told me that they just made her uncomfortable. You never said she was purposely trying to bring them to the surface!"

Xena reached into Gabrielle's bag and pulled out a rolled parchment.

"We tried to get past those blocks ourselves, though at the time, we didn't know what they were," Xena explained. "While we tried, she went into this trance and drew this."

Tyrion unrolled the parchment and his jaw dropped. He handed the scroll to Nicolla.

Nicolla looked at the scroll and saw the image of herself.

"What do these letters translate to?" She asked, indicating the single line of prose Gabrielle had written.

"The naked fox danced across the glass of water," Xena read aloud. "We were trying to figure out what that nonsense was for days."

Nicolla moaned again and looked despondently at Tyrion.

"Oh honey," she said to him. "I really screwed this up."

"What does that mean?" Xena indicated the writing.

"It's a code phrase," Nicolla replied. "A trigger to induce a semi catatonic state. I implanted that with the initial information so I could go in and block the memories of our first encounter. I didn't need one for you, because you were unconscious, but Gabrielle was awake, and we weren't sure if she would have put up a fight if we had told her what we needed to do."

"The Confederated Systems has very strict rules against everything we did," Tyrion explained. "If they had learned that we had interfered with the culture of a primitive world – no offense – they may have decided that the risk was too great and initiated condign action against the two of you. We figured that, if the memories were suppressed or blocked, any assassination team wouldn't be able to lock on to you. So Nicky went in and blocked the memories in your mind and Gabrielle's."

"They would have tried to kill us?" Xena was shocked.

"The point is," Nicolla jerked them back on track. "The fact that Gabrielle was able to recognize and then permeate those blocks, even to a small degree, tells me that she's a latent Teller, possibly a high level one. And that second time, when I brought her back, I didn't do anything to protect myself while I was searching for her."

"Why not?" Tyrion asked.

"Because Xena's right," Nicolla replied. "I didn't consider the possibility, and I was so afraid for her, that I just went in quick to find her."

What was she doing out here? Somewhere in the back of Gabrielle's mind, that question continued to resound even as her feet moved across the dark plains away from the camp.

The sound of the grass rustling beneath her feet was hypnotic as she continued jogging forward.

She let her personal misgiving fall back into the corner of her mind and continued sifting through the otherworldly information she was unlocking. With every conscious effort there was more. Volumes of knowledge bubbled gently to the surface, being absorbed into her waking thoughts with a familiarity that was wonderful and horrifying at the same time.

Memories of battles lost in the young telepaths past played just behind her awareness with crystal clarity. Within those memories were pieces of another person. The bubbly red haired young lady that she knew was only the top most layer of a person who had spent many years of her young life in the service of an organization that killed for reasons personal and professional.

The modern garments felt strange against her flesh, the pack on her back was heavy, laden with the implements of war, and yet her mind accepted this as Nicolla would, even as the conscious part of her that she recognized as the girl from Poditea recoiled at the prospect of utilizing those instruments of death.

Amidst the internal torment, one image kept floating through her mind, that of her husband, Perdicus, dead after a confrontation with the evil Calisto.

An almost overwhelming sense of self deprecation filled her heart. She had followed Calisto to her hideout, had held the point of a sword at her chest, and when the moment had finally arrived she had done nothing.

No great moment of glory, no justice for the wrong in her life, let alone the hundreds of others that had suffered at the hands of the vicious blonde haired warlord. She had come to a moment of choice and had failed, plain and simple.

Now she had been put in a position to have a chance at happiness again. Even if it would have been only a moment in her life, it was a moment that she desperately needed. Her chance at regaining some of her own sense of self had been decimated in that one moment when she beheld the biers being brought to the ship.

When she had seen Felix's body, her chance at redemption had been snuffed out.

Yet another injustice had been done to her. It demanded an answer, and this time, no matter what the cost to herself, she would answer in kind.

At the crest of a small hill, she slowed to a halt, pushing the dilly hat back off her head.

The life of the young Teller hardened her heart in a way that a lifetime of experience could not do. She felt her sense of mercy fading into the shadows as the detachment of a professional soldier washed over her soul.

Was this the way Xena felt when she went into battle?

She surveyed the dark fields around her. In spite of her mental focus, her body was feeling the discomfort of doing more than her muscles were trained for.

She looked down at herself, dressed in the strange drab uniform, with one of those unworldly weapons clutched in her fingers, so strange, and yet, so surprisingly comfortable.

There had been a phrase, a statement that they had shared almost as a mantra.

She found that tidbit in her acquired memories. "Brothers to the Bone."

If one fell, that loss must be answered, it could not be otherwise. If only she had truly held those same convictions after Perdicus.

She blinked the guilt away and double checked her inventory. She held the rifle in her hands, loaded, with the safety on, three additional magazines, four of the strange round grenades, Tactical Armor Coated Vest, or TAC vest, demolition charges and fuses, and night vision spotter glasses, plus any other odds and ends that had been in the pack when she absconded with it.

Nicolla looked absolutely despondent.

"Great Maker," she said angrily. "How could I have been so fucking stupid?"

She looked from Tyrion to Silas and back. "We need to find her, and I mean fast!"

"I think we figured that much out," Silas replied.

"No," Nicolla said sharply. "We need to find her before she completely loses it!"

At that statement the other three in the small cabin perked up.

"Loses it?" Xena asked.

Nicolla began securing the remaining stations as part of a pre flight check.

"Right now," she explained as she went. "She's got two sets of variables running through her mind, hers and mine! One is hers, the other isn't, follow?"

Xena nodded.

Tyrion and Silas on the other hand looked dubious.

Nicolla continued forward to the flight deck and fired up the primary converter.

"Think of it as Silas being stuck in my body, alright?" her voice drifted out through the small hatchway. "Silas could lift a house if he needed to, and that's fine, he trained his body in conjunction with his mind to be able to do it. So what would happen if he suddenly found himself in the body of a person like me, who is half his size and a quarter of his strength?"

"I get you," Silas said. "I might be able to muscle a table without a problem, but if I tried it with you in your physical condition, I could hurt you."

"Exactly," Nicolla said as she emerged from the flight deck. "You'd pull or rip muscles, basically screw me up pretty bad without meaning to because in your mind it should work. It's called Phercol's Physical Disparity or P.P.D."

Nicolla checked a couple of feeds. "Phercol was one of the first registered Tellers in the Confederation, and he was a scientist to boot. He conducted the first experiments in the field of Neuro-cognitive conciousness transfer." She looked at the three people staring blankly at her. "Switching minds from one body to another." She finished in layman's terms.

"Anyway, he quickly discovered that people with extraordinary telepathic abilities could go into minds to retrieve data or program personalities that differed from the original. It was a part of what helped us eliminate our criminal extermination practices. Instead, we simply killed their personality and replaced it with a non aggressive type." Nicolla explained. "Ninety-nine percent of the people that have this experience reported that they felt like their minds and bodies weren't in synch. And it persisted for a period of time until the two halves of the person finally reached equilibrium. Mind and body as one, you see?"

"I understand," Xena nodded.

"Well I don't," Silas retorted.

"Who's primitive?" Xena said with a quick smile. "So, Gabrielle could be drawing on your experiences to push herself beyond her physical abilities."

"Bingo," Nicolla nodded. "Right now, if she's only running, that won't do very much except subject her to a lot of discomfort when she finally rests – sore muscles and the like, but if she winds up in a combat situation and attempts to rely on reflexes that she never really honed? Someone could get hurt or even killed! Never mind that she might begin to subsume her own consciousness and that can lead to all kinds of other problems."

"Such as?" Tyrion asked.

"If we don't do something to check this, it could make her seven kinds of crazy," Nicolla said. "Multiple personalities, schizophrenia, paranoia, various other psychoses, even warp her sense of reality. She might begin to think she actually is me on a bad day!"

"Damn," Tyrion groaned.

Xena looked at him, confused.

"I've seen her on a bad day," Tyrion offered.

"Yeah," Silas nodded. "Nicky may not look like much, but she can kick ass better than most. And if she gets pissed, well, you wanna get several sectors away real quick."

Nicolla looked at Xena. "Xena, I'm so sorry. I never meant for anything like this to happen to her!"

"I know," Xena said quickly. "But now we have to find her, and I think you're the best one suited to do it."

"And Mavon," Tyrion added. "I got a hunch that if we find one, the other won't be too far away."

"Yeah, I think they both want the same thing," Silas nodded.

"Revenge," Xena agreed. "Thing is, if Gabrielle gets into a situation where she takes another life, I don't know what that'll do to her."

"We're ready for liftoff!" Nicolla's voice rang from the flight deck. "Close that hatch!"

Tyrion blinked. They hadn't even seen Nicolla move forward again. He sealed the hatch as the engines came up.

Outside, Eomer and many of his followers came running from their tents or rose to their feet at the strange intrusive noise, only to watch in awe as the Phoenix lifted gracefully off the ground and sped away towards Isengard.

"What is this, My Lord?" Argoman asked, watching as the blue flare of the exhaust faded into the distance.

"It means that Master Tyrion has need of haste," Eomer replied. "Or perhaps that the enemy we face is not so crippled as we were led to believe."

He considered for a moment even as the massive bulk of Korbal shimmered into view, striding towards him.

"Break camp," Eomer ordered. "Prepare to move out. If the enemy is preparing a second attack, we shall meet it and perhaps turn this to our advantage."

"Many of the men are still weary from battle, My Lord," Argoman counseled. "We have had precious few hours to rest."

"I know," Eomer countered. "But we should be hard pressed should the enemy come upon us at rest. We take the road to Isengard, but we shall go slowly, to allow the men to recuperate as best they can."

"As you wish, My Lord," Argoman nodded his head and withdrew.

Eomer looked at Korbal. "I know not how weary your men are, Master Korbal. But if you can move more quickly, then do not let my people hinder you."

The big creature nodded once.

"_As you wish, My Lord,"_ he grated, much to Eomer's surprise.

Korbal turned and moved away, joined quickly by the rest of his people. Eomer noted that even the wounded one called Agran, his arm still immobilized in the metallic sling, was among them.

"Unless I am very much mistaken," Eomer said to those around him. "If the enemy does plan something for us this night, these Kajano will give us ample warning before we meet it."

Gabrielle sprawled to the ground, her limbs on fire from the constant movement. She lay there for a second, trying to force her body to cooperate in spite of the pain.

"Come on," she thought furiously. "It was only a five mile jog. You can do that in your sleep, dammit!"

In spite of her struggles, she only managed to roll over and lay on her back, her breath coming in unnaturally long gasps.

"What's the matter with me?" she thought to herself.

"_You shouldn't be doing this!"_ A voice said from the back of her mind. _"You're not ready for this!"_

"Shut up," Gabrielle muttered aloud.

The canteen of water felt like a lead weight as she forced herself to raise it to her lips and drink. The coolness flowed through her limbs and drove away some of the pain. Slowly, she staggered back to her feet and trudged the rest of the way up to the crest of the next rise.

Down below, she could make out the edges of a forest framing either bank of a silvery river and beyond that, rising like a four pronged blade, the darker shadow of the tower of Isengard.

Just the sight of it, standing like a darker shadow among the shadows of the night buoyed her heart, and she trudged down the last slope to the edge of the river.

The sound of the bubbling water was like music to her ears. She dropped to her knees before the water and splashed it on her face. The shock of cold helped drive a little more of the weariness away. She refilled her canteen, took a long drink from the stream and then staggered back to her feet.

The water soaked through the borrowed boots and cooled her feet as she forded the river and entered the trees on the opposite bank.

"Okay," she thought. "I can come at the place from the west side. The higher ground will give me a better angle from which to look the place over."

"_You're going to get yourself killed, you know that_?" the insistent voice cried in her mind.

She blinked.

"_This isn't you and you know it!"_ The voice continued desperately.

"Be quiet," she hissed.

"_You don't know what you're doing, you just think you do! This is wrong!"_ the voice persisted.

She stopped and looked about her at the shadowy gaps between the trees half expecting to see the person speaking in her mind.

"Shut up!" she hissed a little louder.

"_Felix and Perdicus won't thank you for throwing your life away!"_ The voice cried desperately. _"Please stop this!"_

"Shut up," she hissed louder, looking around. Then she saw it. An apparition, her height, her build, dressed in a simple green halter and brown skirt with dark leather boots and a desperate pleading expression in her green eyes.

"_Don't do this,"_ The apparition begged.

"Will you shut the hell up!" Gabrielle whispered angrily. "You want to give away our position? What's the matter with you?"

The weariness and pain melted away as the adrenalin began to flow.

"How the hell did you get out here anyway?" she asked angrily, careful not to let her voice get too loud.

"_That doesn't matter,"_ she replied. _"All that matters is that you need to listen to me before this goes too far."_

"It went too far when Perdicus died!" Gabrielle replied. She circled the intruding figure, glaring at it angrily. "It went too far when I got raped! It went too far when Felix," her voice choked away.

"_And this is going to make it better?"_

"It's a start!"

"_Oh, and what then, Gabrielle? What happens next?"_

"What do you know about it anyway? You're just a stupid kid who didn't have the guts to do what needed to be done in the first place! Otherwise you would have killed Calisto when you had the chance!"

"_Maybe. What would that have proved, besides the fact that you could be just as cold and heartless as she was?"_

"I can't just sit back and watch everyone I love die and not do anything about it!"

The young girl in the green halter stepped to a fallen log and seated herself, looking at Gabrielle questioningly.

"_So. You're going to go into that place and do, what?"_

"Somewhere in that place is the person that ordered that attack!" Gabrielle said angrily. "Someone in there ordered Felix's death!"

"_A lot of other people died in that battle. And many more were hurt."_

"I don't care about that!"

"_You don't care? By the Gods, Gabrielle! Listen to yourself!"_

"Shut up! Just shut up and let me do what I have to do!"

"You know," another voice said quietly behind her. "You keep yapping and.."

Gabrielle spun around, her weapon coming up to the firing position. Not thirty feet away, another figure also snapped a similar weapon up and pointed it at her.

Gabrielle barely caught herself before her finger squeezed the trigger.

"Whoa there!" Mavon hissed.

"Sup, Mave?" Gabrielle said with uncharacteristic ice. "Thought you had guard duty tonight?"

"Sup, Mave?" Mavon repeated in amusement. "What the fuck are you doing all the way out here, with all that hardware?"

"Did they send you to try and stop me?" Gabrielle asked. Her eyes were cold, like frozen sea water, and yet they blazed with suspicion. "Cause it ain't happening."

Mavon frowned. "What the fuck are you talking about? No one sent me after you. You caught up to me. I thought you were Nicky. What are you doing with all the hardware, Gabs? Do you even have a clue how to use it?"  
"Si's a good teacher," Gabrielle replied.

Mavon seemed to digest that. "Okay, so he's a good teacher. That's nice. I don't think they would have turned you loose after a single crash course though?"

Gabrielle said nothing, her entire body tense as a bowstring.

"Right," Mavon said evenly. "I'm gonna put my gun down now. Mind doing the same?"

"You first," Gabrielle nodded.

Slowly, Mavon lowered the weapon and let it hang by the strap, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay. You're turn, babe."

Gabrielle kept her weapon poised. "Now, get out of my way, Mavon. I got something I gotta do."

Mavon nodded his head once and stepped several paces to one side.

"Sure," he nodded agreeably. "Go ahead. Knock yourself out."

Cautiously, Gabrielle stepped sideways past Mavon. Her weapon never wavered.

"Of course," Mavon said agreeably as she began backing down the path away from him. "You may want to know some of the Intel I've gathered before you go in there with guns blazing."

Something like a low growl escaped from her throat.

"See," she said. "This is why we never get along! You always like to pull this eleventh hour shit with me!"

Mavon frowned as he turned to look at her. "Pull this eleventh - what? Kid, what is your malfunction? First of all, I ain't ever pulled any eleventh hour shit on you, and secondly, you're talking like a Bentrusian Rig Driver? What the hell is going on?" He pointed at Gabrielle's weapon, still trained on him. "And one more thing: We're all on the same team here, so point that spat blaster somewhere else, will ya? Sheesh!"

Reluctantly, Gabrielle lowered the weapon.

"Thank you," Mavon said, letting his arms drop and straightening his jacket. "Now, you wanna tell me what the hell you're doing out here, and why you don't like me all of a sudden?"

Gabrielle frowned suddenly, and some of the edge in her manner seemed to melt away.

Mavon perceived the subtle shift in the young bards' demeanor.

"So," he asked casually. "What's the drill, Gabs?"

"I've got something I need to take care of," Gabrielle said a little uncertainly and Mavon could see the internal conflict in her eyes.

"Uh huh," he nodded. "And just who were you arguing with a minute ago?"

"What do you mean?" Gabrielle seemed to suddenly be a little confused.

Again, Mavon frowned. Then he sighed. "Whatever. Come on. I got an observation post set up near by."

The suspicion instantly rekindled in Gabrielle's eyes.

Without waiting to see if she would follow, he turned and walked past her into the forest.

They had barely gone twenty steps when they heard the cracking of small branches nearby.

They both froze.

Mavon's hand slowly rose to grip his weapon. When he looked back at Gabrielle, her gaze had crystallized again, and it was as if he were seeing a totally different person.

Then Gabrielle did something completely unexpected.

Slowly, she raised her left hand and pointed with two fingers, at her eyes and then she pointed to her left.

Mavon was so surprised to see the silent form of communication, he almost forgot to nod.

He drew his hand, palm down a little way across his chest and then indicated himself as primary and her as backup. He was rewarded with an instant nod of understanding.

Slowly, they two of them crept into the deeper foliage towards the source of the ominous sound.

At that particular moment, Mavon didn't care how Gabrielle knew what she seemed to know. A crazy backup was better than no backup at all.

The branches of a nearby cluster of brambles shook as they approached it. Whatever it was, it had just given away its position.

Mavon held up one hand in the universal command for halt and then gestured to indicate the thick clump of leaves.

"Okay junior," Mavon said with quiet ferocity. "Come on out before I light up your world."

There was no movement from the tall foliage before them.

He was about to move closer when they both caught the unmistakable sound of distant engines. The Phoenix Fire was aloft, ostensibly searching for them.

At the same moment the thought registered, a young fawn vaulted from the brambles before them, almost hitting Gabrielle in the process and bounded away into the darkness.

Mavon barely restrained his startled cry.

"Damn!" He whispered in annoyance. "That scared the holy crap out of me!"

Gabrielle looked at him with a similar expression of surprise and fear, and then she suddenly laughed aloud, stifling it quickly.

Mavon smiled and let his MP-9 hang loosely at his belly. He offered a shrug.

"The joys of being in nature," he offered and his grin grew. "I'm getting something to eat."

He sat down and unslung his backpack, fishing around inside.

"You want anything?" he offered.

Gabrielle relaxed, becoming more like herself when she smiled. "What have you got?"

Mavon grimaced. "Not much, I'm afraid. Only what I could snag from the storage locker." He extended a small pressed bar of nuts in her direction. "Bottoms up."

Gabrielle sat down next to him and accepted the small nutrient bar. Then she felt the sharp jab in her thigh. Looking down, she saw Mavon's other hand holding the Medical Kit injector and she felt the sedative surge through her body. She staggered to her feet, her rage at the betrayal helping her momentarily ward off the effects of the narcotic. She raised the weapon, saw Mavon sit there with a grim expression on his face.

"Why did you?" Gabrielle started, then the MP-9 fell from her leaden fingers and she toppled forward.

Mavon removed the weapon and set it nearby, out of her reach, and then he rummaged around in her backpack and found the com unit, affixing it to his ear.

"Phoenix Fire, Phoenix Fire, do you receive?" he called over the channel.

"Mavon, you son of a bitch!" Tyrion answered immediately. "What the fuck are you doing out here?"

"At the moment," Mavon offered. "Tucking in one confused young lady."

"Do you have Gabrielle with you?" he heard Nicolla ask urgently.

"More or less," Mavon replied. "She's relaxing at the moment, but you may want to get down here and pick her up before she wakes up."

"Stay put, Mave," Tyrion ordered. "We're homing in on your signal now. Leave this channel open."

Mavon set the com on the ground next to Gabrielle.

"That's the plan," he muttered. Then he quickly removed Gabrielle's backpack, spare magazines, and the four grenades attached to her vest.

"Nighty night, kid," he patted her on the shoulder. "Thanks for the extra gear."

He stuffed the equipment in his new extra backpack and disarmed Gabrielle's rifle before jogging off into the shadows, ignoring Tyrion's rising bellow for him to pick up the com.

Nicolla and Xena moved through the trees like silent shadows. They were deep in enemy territory searching for one of their own – not the best place to be given the circumstances.

Nicolla held her weapon up, pointed forward as they moved deeper into the shadows.

The trees stretched in all directions like silent columns supporting the dark canopy of leaves above them. Small sparkles of starlight could be seen flashing in the sky above as they moved from tree to tree.

They entered a small clearing and found a discarded MP-9 and the errant coms unit, but no sign of Gabrielle.

"Tyrion," Nicolla reported. "We're at the site. No sign of Mavon or Gabrielle."

Suddenly, two hands grasped Nicolla's shoulder s and spun her around, flinging her against an adjacent tree. She felt her skull bounce off the hard wood and fell to the ground.

Xena wheeled just in time to catch the interloper in the ribs. The two of them went down in a tumble. She dislodged herself and kipped to her feet, sword ringing free.

Gabrielle stood a few paces back, in a combat crouch with a long knife in her hand.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked in shock.

Gabrielle's eyes blazed with fury, or perhaps madness. Her face was a twisted mask of hatred. She charged again, stabbing with the weapon.

Xena dropped her sword and grappled with her best friend, wresting the knife from her grip.

Suddenly, Gabrielle swept her foot out, knocking Xena off balance. She staggered back a couple steps as the knife fell to the ground. Then Gabrielle was after her again.

"Gabrielle, stop this!" Xena cried.

Gabrielle pressed her attack. Xena moved away, widening the gap between her best friend and the fallen knife, lest she reclaim it.

"Gabrielle, listen to me!" Xena pleaded. "This isn't you!"

Then she was forced to defend herself from another onslaught.

"You're confused Gabrielle!" Xena said quickly as she pushed her best friend off of her once more. "You don't know what you're doing!"

Xena did her best to keep her distance, pleading with her best friend to stop.

It wasn't working. The young bard was too enraged, or perhaps to insane to be stopped with mere words.

The two of them grappled again and this time Gabrielle's fingers found Xena's throat and began to squeeze. In desperation, Xena broke her hold and lashed out with a vicious kick, knocking the young bard back.

She rolled with the impact and came up with something in her hand.

Xena saw the subtle flash of green just before she recognized the small pistol for what it was.

She dove for cover as the shot rang out. The plasma bolt buried itself in the trunk of a large tree.

Xena darted for cover behind another tree as the bolts whizzed past her. She wasn't quite fast enough as she felt a sudden burning pain in her left thigh.

She cried out in pain as she rolled behind another tree.

Gabrielle watched the tree for any movement, even as she began to side step around to get a clear shot.

"Gabs!" Nicolla shouted angrily.

Suddenly, Gabrielle's head exploded in a ringing fount of pain. She winced and cried out, almost dropping her weapon.

Almost.

She turned and locked eyes with Nicolla, still on her knees, her eyes locked on the young bard with feral intensity.

"No!" Gabrielle shouted and she fired two shots blindly.

Nicolla dove for cover, releasing her mental attack.

Splinters of wood exploded past her face.

Gabrielle let the expended clip fall from the weapon and loaded a fresh one.

Nicolla looked over at Xena, her leg covered in blood, her expression a mask of pain.

"Gabby!" Nicolla called. "You need to listen to me, baby!"

"Shut up!" Gabrielle shouted back, and two more shots exploded near Nicolla's head.

"This isn't you Gabby!" Nicolla pleaded. "I know you're still in there! I can feel it! You have to let this thing go!"

She quickly tapped her com.

"Tyrion, honey," she whispered urgently. "We may need backup on this one. Xena's down with a bad leg wound. She might be bleeding out, I can't tell!"

"On our way!" She heard Tyrion reply

Gabrielle appeared off to one side, her small pistol aimed at Nicolla.

Another shot fragmented a portion of the tree trunk as she spun around to the back side of the tree, and then ran, zig zagging for better cover, trying to lead the enraged girl away from Xena's position.

She felt something burn her right arm and knew even as she fell forward that she had also been hit by one of Gabrielle's shots.

Had it been one of their larger caliber side arms, she realized with horror that her arm would most likely have been blown clean off. She crashed into a tree with a cry of pain and spun around it.

"Gabs!" she pleaded. "Don't make me do this!" She switched her grip on the MP-9 to her left hand and leaned out around the tree to find her target.

Xena felt the life ebbing from her even as she tried to stem the flow of blood from the wound. Her numbing fingers wouldn't work.

There was the crack of a small branch and she looked up to see Gabrielle standing over her, a pistol in her hand and mad rage boiling in her green eyes.

Nicolla watched as Gabrielle raised the weapon, pointing at Xena's head.

"Gabby!" she cried out, raising her own weapon and taking aim. "Don't!"

Something flashed from the opposite side of the clearing, and the earth between Gabrielle and Xena erupted. At the same time, Xena used the last of her strength to fling herself to the side even as the trunk of the tree burst where her head had been.

Gabrielle spun and stumbled away, then something with the force of a battering ram smashed into her from the side, pinning her to the ground. She was held in place by some form of metallic netting. It bit into the fabric of her clothing and she could feel it also biting into her skin.

Then a figure straight from Tartarus materialized before her. The massive bulk of Thegar stepped into view, its gray faceplate looking down at her with flashing yellow eyes.

"_What are you supposed to be!"_ he growled as he stooped and removed the pistol from her hand. The small weapon snapped in the monster's massive hand.

Another of the Kajano also materialized. It was Korbal. Behind him came Agran and the other triad of Paldorian Knights.

Nicolla staggered to her feet and ran over to Xena. Her complexion was pale and her leg a bloody mass. Nicolla looked up at Korbal.

"Do you know where the ship is?" she asked urgently.

Korbal nodded.

"Can you take Xena there?" Nicolla continued as she quickly began wrapping a regen pack over the wound.

Again, Korbal nodded.

He stooped and lifted Xena from the ground as easily as a parent lifting a small child, turned, and ran off towards the ship.

"Tyrion," Nicolla called. "Korbal is coming your way with Xena. She's gonna need serious help."

"Copy that!" she heard Tyrion reply. "We're on our way to you."

"We're clear here," Nicolla said. "Thanks to our new friends."

"Understood. Heading back." Tyrion replied. "You okay?"

"Just a scratch, honey," Nicolla said. "See you in a bit."

She disconnected the circuit and moved to where Gabrielle lay pinned in the razor net.

"Can you get this off of her?" Nicolla asked.

Agran nodded, and stepped forward. With a deft motion, the net popped from the ground. At the same moment, before Gabrielle could react, massive clawed hands grasped her arms and hauled her to her feet.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she struggled impotently in the iron grip of the two Paldorians.

Nicolla braced herself and then locked eyes with Gabrielle and pushed. She pushed hard.

"You need to let this stuff go Gabby," she said. "You shouldn't have gotten it in the first place."

She was shocked when she actually felt Gabrielle resist her probe.

"_Get out of my mind!"_ She heard Gabrielle's voice.

Nicolla pressed in further, ignoring the screaming protests echoing between them. She was amazed at how well Gabrielle was able to fend off her search. It was like moving through water.

"_You're good, honey,"_ she growled. _"But I've had some practice lately!"_

Nicolla pushed further, ignoring the young bards audible screams of protest even as she felt the veil being pulled back.

Then suddenly, the resistance subsided and she was in. The information began to appear before her minds eye, like writing on a chalk board. She began to move through the memories, sifting through the ones that were hers and the ones that were legitimate. Suddenly another mental wall blocked her path. She disseminated that and continued. Then another appeared, and another, and another as Gabrielle resumed trying to prevent the intrusion.

"Stop fighting me!" she growled through gritted teeth.

Finally, the last of the resistance crumbled away and there was nothing. She moved freely, plucking the stolen information from Gabrielle's mind like a careful gardener removing the weeds from a flowerbed without disturbing the blossoms.

With a final push, Gabrielle's eyes roiled back in her head and she fell unconscious.

The world around her sank into a fathomless void, and silence wrapped around her like a blanket.

36


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Fanaticism and martyrdom are often found in the same tent…

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

The world slowly began to materialize in front of her even as the pain in her skull sharpened. A soft humming sound could be heard floating in the air all around her.

With a groan, Gabrielle rolled over and forced her eyes to open.

The first thing she noticed was the wall of strange lights and devices in the main cabin of Tyrion's ship.

She looked down past herself and saw Nicolla, seated on another of the collapsible beds. Tyrion was working on a nasty wound in upper right arm. Nicolla stared straight ahead, her eyes unfocused as she ignored the discomfort of the procedure.

"Welcome back," Tyrion greeted her grimly.

Nicolla's eyes turned to gaze at her, and Gabrielle instantly felt the guilt beginning to rise in her gut.

She rolled back over and saw Xena, unconscious and pale on another bed. A cuff was affixed to her arm, and her damaged and deformed leg was packed with temporary dressings.

A line was attached to the cuff, running its way into the wall unit behind the bed and a second line emerged tracing its way to a second cuff wrapped tightly around Silas's meaty arm. Brilliant red blood flowed from Silas, into the wall and back out into Xena's body.

The big man fixed her with a sharp look and then turned his attention back to the unconscious Warrior Princess.

Suddenly, the nightmare came back with all its horrific clarity. She had done all this.

"Xena," Gabrielle whispered, sliding from the bed. The fiery pain in her muscles almost caused her to lose her balance, but she caught herself and tried to stagger to her friend's side.

The imposing figure of Thegar materialized between her and her best friend. He stood, his arms folded across his massive, pale chest, glaring down at her with fierce red eyes. Three red points of light appeared on her chest as the shoulder mounted weapon aimed at her. She heard the unmistakable whine of the weapon as it powered up.

She stopped short when she realized that Thegar would not let her approach. He growled ominously.

Slowly, she backed away and found one of the seats near the rear of the cabin, sliding into it and feeling the weight settling around her shoulders like a suffocating cloud.

Looking down, she saw the TAC vest still covering her chest and the strange, otherworldly uniform.

She ripped the armored vest from her body and let it drop to the floor, holding her head in her hands.

This was her fault, all of it. The memory of what she had nearly done was still vivid in her mind. Unlike the errant knowledge she had gained from Nicolla, this memory was hers for the rest of her life, and with it came all the emotional baggage that it involved.

Nicolla winced as Tyrion finished healing the wound on her arm.

"There you go, Nicky," he said. "Good as new. How you feeling?"

"Besides a gravitonic headache," Nicolla replied. "I'm alright."

"Can you fly, or you want me to take it?" Tyrion offered.

Nicolla shook her head. "I'm good."

"Okay," Tyrion nodded, moving past the bulk of Thegar to examine Xena's injury.

He looked up at Thegar, still watching Gabrielle closely.

"Any of you guys want to hitch a ride with us back to Eomer?" Tyrion offered.

Thegar gave a nod.

"Okay," Tyrion said, bending over Xena's leg and gently stripping the regen pack and dressings from the wound. "Tell your boys to come on in and grab a seat."

Thegar looked back at Gabrielle and then again at Tyrion, his growl repeated.

"Don't worry about her, Thug," Tyrion said with a grim smile. "I don't think she'll give us any more trouble."

He locked eyes with Gabrielle and gave her a stern look. She merely shook her head and looked back down at the deck.

A short time later, the bulk of Korbal entered the cabin.

"Your boys with you?" Tyrion asked.

"_The King approaches,"_ Korbal replied.

Everyone in the ship paused and looked at the massive creature. Though Felix's notes spoke of Korbal utilizing complete sentences in their language, they had until that moment, not heard it.

"He's here?" Tyrion asked.

"_He is across the river, with his army_." Korbal nodded again.

Tyrion shrugged. "Okay, then we'll hop over to him." He turned and called out. "Nicky! Eomer marched to us, just south of the river! Bop hop us over there, will you?"

"On it!" Nicolla's voice came from the flight deck.

Korbal looked down at Gabrielle.

"_This one is balanced now?"_ he asked.

"As much as any of us," Tyrion replied as he resumed working on Xena's leg.

Korbal gave a quick grunt that may have been the Kajano equivalent of a snort or chuckle.

"Your boys hitching a ride with us?" Tyrion asked as the engines wound up.

"_No,"_ Korbal replied. _"My sons will follow. I will go with you."_

"Okay." He turned back to the open flight deck hatch. "Whenever you're ready sweetheart!"

The ship lifted gracefully from the earth and coasted south over the trees until it spied the fires of Eomer's camp. A large circular section of land had been left empty for the ship to land amidst the tents of the army, and Nicolla set the ship down easily, next to Eomer's command tent.

As soon as the wheels touched the ground, Gabrielle stood and practically ran out the hatch, disappearing into the shadows.

The sudden movement had Korbal on his feet with a growl. Then he looked back at Tyrion still working on Xena's wound.

"I think she just needs some time alone," he offered.

Korbal nodded to Tyrion and Silas in turn and departed.

"I don't care how many times I see them," Silas said as he disconnected himself from the system. "Talking with them boys still makes me nervous."

He looked down at the gaping wound in the patient's leg and winced. "You going to be able to fix all that, Chief?"

Xena's leg had been burnt by the blast. The bolt had penetrated her upper leg before discharging. The end result had been an explosive wound that vacated outward from the front of her leg, leaving a large mass of exposed, cauterized muscle tissue. The only positive aspect of the injury was the fact that Xena's bone had not been shattered by the blast.

Tyrion looked up from his task and sighed. "It'll take a while, but I can fix it."

"Well, she's got a pint of grade-A plasma in her now," Silas smirked. "Probably even do her some good."

Tyrion reached over and switched off the controls for the general anesthetic. Then he pulled a hypo out and gave her a large dose of local near the wound.

"I don't want her under for too long," he explained.

Nicolla came into the cabin, rubbing her eyes wearily. "Permission to collapse?" she asked thickly.

"Granted," Tyrion nodded. "We got a busy day tomorrow."

"We're still going through with the attack?" Nicolla asked.

"Yes we are," Tyrion replied. "And Mavon's still out there. We're going to need to find him."

"Well, I got me a hot date with an empty cot," Silas said as he lumbered towards the hatch. "Have a nice evening you two."

"You really mean to take this beat up old bird into combat?" Nicolla asked after Silas was gone.

"Yes I do," Tyrion replied.

"Uh huh," Nicolla folded her arms across her chest. "And who exactly is going to fly her?"

Tyrion looked up and saw the coming refusal in Nicolla's expression. She, like Allister both believed that the ship was too valuable to risk in a combat situation.

"If something happens up there and this ship gets beat around much more, we might be stuck here for the rest of our lives." Nicolla stated. "You know that."

"We're already stuck here, sweetheart," Tyrion said. "This ship's too beat up to break atom - has been since the crash. The second we hit vacuum, the atmosphere in here would bleed out before we got a par sec from orbit."

Nicolla felt her jaw drop open in shock.

Tyrion smiled when he saw her expression. "Come on, Nicky. You didn't think this ship could handle space after our little spill east of Osgilioth, did you?"

"Well I," Nicolla stammered. "You don't know for sure?"

Tyrion looked up at her with a knowing, resigned expression.

"You do know for sure," Nicolla surmised.

"Yup," Tyrion nodded, refocusing on his patient. He finished his surgical tasks and passed a medical scanner over the ugly wound, and then he wrapped the upper leg in a thick, gel-like cuff and hooked it into the main computer.

Xena moaned softly and her head rolled from one side to the other.

"Hey there," Tyrion smiled. "Welcome back."

Xena's eyes fluttered open, still dazed. "Tyrion?" she asked thickly.

"At your service," Tyrion offered a slight bow. Then he looked at Xena critically. "You know, every time you and I hook up, you wind up getting all beat up. This is getting to be a habit."

Xena smiled and reached up to rub her head. "What did you do to me?"

"I got you drunk and had my way with you," Tyrion replied easily.

When she saw his expression she smiled. "Very funny."

She looked about the cabin. "Where's Gabrielle?"

"She's about somewhere," Tyrion said. "I think she's feeling a little guilty about all this." He gestured to the massive regen pack encircling Xena's upper leg.

"I need to see her, Tyrion." Xena stated.

Tyrion nodded. "I'll go and find her for you." He gave her a friendly nod and turned towards the hatch.

"Nicky," he added before exiting. "Grab some shuteye."

"_A hunter does not discard his weapon,"_ the voice grated.

Gabrielle started at the monstrous sound. She turned to see Korbal stooping to retrieve the Kajano pole arm that had been given to her.

"I'm not much of a hunter, I suppose," she replied, refocusing on the flowing stream before her.

"_We are all hunters,"_ Korbal said evenly. _"What do you hunt?"_

Gabrielle shrugged. "My friends, apparently."

Korbal stepped up behind her, looking out past the bank of the river.

"_No,"_ Korbal grated.

Gabrielle started slightly when the bronze colored weapon fell to the ground at her feet.

"_Yours is the honorable hunt." _He continued. _"When you are of one mind, not many."_

"Excuse me," another voice said. They both looked and saw Tyrion striding out of the shadows. He looked down at Gabrielle and smiled. "Someone wants to talk with you."

Gabrielle got to her feet and moved quickly past Tyrion towards the ship.

Korbal gave a loud growl that froze them both in their tracks.

The big creature stooped and retrieved Gabrielle's pole arm a second time.

"_A hunter does not discard his weapon!"_ he said more fiercely. Then he tossed the weapon to Gabrielle who caught it reflexively.

Gabrielle looked at the massive creature for a moment, and then nodded before turning and running back towards the shadow of the Phoenix Fire.

The two watched her vanish before Korbal turned to walk towards the river.

"You know, the idea of a compassionate Kajano never occurred to me?" Tyrion offered with a wry smile. "You aren't going soft on us are you?"

Korbal paused and offered only a menacing growl in response before continuing across the stream and vanishing into the woods.

Tyrion grinned before he turned back towards the camp.

"Kajano with a sense of humor," he mused. "There's another one I wouldn't have expected."

Xena looked over as Gabrielle entered the ship.

"Hi," Xena smiled.

"I," Gabrielle stammered. "I don't know what to say."

Xena nodded. "You don't have to say anything."

"I could have killed you!" Gabrielle blurted.

"Granted," Xena replied. "This was not one of your better ideas. Then again, was it your idea, or your idea?"

Gabrielle tried to answer that, but she couldn't find the words. Xena's expression was so warm and forgiving that the entire event took on a comical air in spite of the severity of Xena's injury.

Gabrielle felt the weight being lifted from her shoulders and she stepped forward, wrapping her arms about Xena's shoulders.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

"I know."

They sat and talked deep into the failing night. With each passing minute, Xena could see Gabrielle's old confidence beginning to return, albeit slowly.

Suddenly, there was a crackle from a nearby panel, and then a voice, soft, but urgent.

"Phoenix Fire, Phoenix Fire, do you receive?"

The two looked at the panel in surprise.

"That sounded like Mavon," Xena said.

Gabrielle stepped up to the panel and looked at the numerous controls. She reached out instinctively and then paused.

"Um," she thought furiously.

"Well?" Xena asked. "Answer him."

"Uh," Gabrielle's finger moved across the buttons, hesitating. Suddenly she realized that all of her previous knowledge was gone. Every last little bit of it had been purged from her mind. "I don't know how!"

"Go find Tyrion, quick!" Xena ordered, trying to sit up.

"Okay, okay," Gabrielle held her hands out to stay Xena.

"You stay there." She bolted out the hatch.

Xena looked down at her leg, wrapped in the strange splint and hooked into the machines behind her. "Like I have a choice?"

Gabrielle returned a few minutes later with Tyrion and Allister in tow.

He quickly stepped up and canceled Mavon's incessant call.

"Yo, Mave, where the hell are you?"

"About time," Mavon replied. "You got a problem happening in Isengard, Chief!"

"Explain," Tyrion said.

"I got a contingent of a few hundred moving south towards the river," Mavon reported. "And they're organizing larger forces within the walls."

"A few hundred soldiers wouldn't do much except confuse us for a short period of time," Allister mused. "Perhaps attempting to get someone out of the area?"

"Mave," Tyrion asked quickly. "Any activity moving away from the compound, perhaps northward?"

There was ominous silence for a moment.

"Not that I can make out," Mavon finally answered.

The two senior officers frowned at one another.

"The Kajano will make short work of them before they even get close," Tyrion shrugged. "They need to know that we outnumber them. Why bother?"

"They're attempting to force an attack before our forces are fully rested," Xena said. "Or they're trying to keep us off balance to maximize their chances."

Both old soldiers mulled that over and nodded.

"An unnecessary waste of assets," Allister said soberly. "But the strategy is sound."

"Anything else happening?" Tyrion called out.

"Not from where I sit," Mavon replied. "Doesn't look like the main force is going to be ready for a while yet, but when they come after you, its going to be big."

"Okay," Tyrion replied. Then his voice took on a hard edge. "Understand one thing, you little shit. While I appreciate the Intel, it does not get you off the hook for ditching us, you got me?"

"Yeah," Mavon replied. "I got you."

Tyrion turned back to Gabrielle. "Let Eomer know we have guests heading our way."

The young bard nodded and ran off towards the King's tent.

An equal group of foot soldiers were dispatched from the camp within the hour, heading off into the trees to engage the small contingent heading toward them.

Another group finished moving the equipment stripped from the Phoenix into a secondary tent that would serve as an infirmary. In that tent, Silas ran cables from the portable power supply to the beds and diagnostic equipment.

Gabrielle found herself once again seated near the southern edge of the river, watching the deep shadows of the trees as they swayed gently in the night breeze.

Suddenly, off in the distance, she caught several flashes of pale blue light. The contingent of enemy soldiers had obviously been found.

She began counting out loud as she watched the lights strobe again and again. Occasionally a soft sound issued from that direction, someone or something screaming in terror.

Then the flashes ceased, and the world once again descended into silence.

"One hundred and thirty," Gabrielle whispered. She suppressed a shudder. Several hundred of the enemy, decimated in a little more than two minutes.

She drew out the pole arm, and held the lightweight metal in her outstretched hand, studying it under the light of silver stars.

Her fingers found the myriad of small contacts that could invoke the transformation of this short bundle of metal into a weapon of violence.

She pressed them in various sequences, absently noting the different configurations available to her.

Despite her weariness, Nicolla only managed to rest for a little more than an hour. She found herself wandering through the camp, lost in her own thoughts.

As she meandered between the tents near the river, she heard a strange sound. She paused and listened carefully as it repeated over and over.

"_Snick-ching…..snick-ching…..snick-ching…"_

Frowning, she followed the noise towards the river and found Gabrielle sitting at the crest of a small rise, watching the silver ribbon of water meandering below.

"_Snick-ching…"_

Suddenly, dark steel stretched out and snapped into place, capped with three curving blades at either end.

Nicolla started when she saw it.

"_Snick-ching…"_

The weapon compacted out of sight again.

"_Snick-ching…"_

This time it was a long pike, with a pale silver tip at either end.

"_Snick-ching…" _

Again, the weapon vanished.

Nicolla studied the young woman for a while and could almost feel the waves of guilt emanating from her.

Gabrielle stiffened and turned, seeing her for the first time. She said nothing in greeting and simply turned back to face the water below.

"_Snick-ching…"_

The weapons sprouted again, this time with blades at either end shaped like rounded leaves instead of the curving spikes.

"_Snick-ching…"_

"You know," Nicolla offered as she attempted to mix compassion and optimism in the appropriate amounts. "That outfit actually suits you."

"I couldn't find my other clothes," Gabrielle said quietly. "They got mixed in with all the stuff that Tyrion was having removed from your ship. Silas said he'd let me know when he found them."

"_Snick-ching…"_

"So, you're just going to sit here for a while," Nicolla asked. "Waiting?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Mind if I join you?" Nicolla asked.

Gabrielle shrugged. "I'm actually surprised you even want to talk to me."

"_Snick-ching…"_

Nicolla settled down next to her, making sure she was clear of the encroaching weapon as it extended.

"Well," She replied. "If you really think about it, this whole mess is actually my fault, not yours."

Gabrielle looked over at her. "You didn't try to kill your friends."

"Well," Nicolla shrugged. "If you want to get picky on it, then technically, neither did you."

"Nicky," Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

"I'm just saying," Nicolla shrugged. "You were so wrapped up in this duality at the time, that you probably weren't consciously in control, you know?"

"It was my hand on the…the, um," Gabrielle fumbled.

"Trigger?" Nicolla smiled.

"Yeah," Gabrielle said. "I was the one with the weapons. I was the one using them against you."

"And you kept missing," Nicolla countered.

Gabrielle actually let a soft smile appear on her lips as she looked back down at the weapon in her hands.

"Well," Gabrielle offered.

"All I'm saying," Nicolla offered. "Is that in spite of all the pain you felt about losing Felix, you were still in control enough to avoid actually killing anyone."

Gabrielle nodded, and was about to say more when they both saw the contingent of men dispatched to intercept the enemy come marching back out of the woods towards the camp.

Even in the silver light of the stars, many of them were pale and had haunted expressions on their faces.

The two immediately noted that none of the men were injured. In fact, it seemed that none of them had even been forced to fight.

"What's up boys?" Nicolla asked.

Hallas paused before them, his eyes filled with dread.

He nodded to Nicolla and then looked at Gabrielle.

"Lady Nicolla, Lady Sunmane," he said in a weary voice. "I know not from whence your strange allies hail, but they are the fiercest warriors I have ever beheld, and by far, the coldest."

He looked back at the river and the two women actually saw him shudder.

"These Kajano had already eliminated the Orcs of Isengard before we arrived." He explained. "When we reached the site of the battle, they had hung the dead from the trees and skinned them. I have never seen the like of it before."

Gabrielle's mind flashed back to a night in the past, when she and her friends had stood at the end of a dock on the Isle of Andross and beheld the corpses swinging from the rigging on two ships. The memory of the bodies glistening red in the moonlight appeared before her minds eye as if it had occurred yesterday.

In that event, only one of the Kajano, the Tunji called Thegar, had been responsible. Xena, and Gabrielle, along with the aid of their friends Hercules and Ioulas had been the ones to drive Thegar from her world even as the Tunji had been hunting them.

Those events had undoubtedly led to the Kajano's willingness to associate with her and her friends, since Xena and she had been what Felix had termed 'Survivors'.

At the thought of Felix, her heart sank again.

You didn't need to be a telepath to see it, and Nicolla spotted it right away.

Hallas also saw the drop in Gabrielle's mood and nodded. "I shall leave you to your thoughts, My Lady." He gave her a nod and departed.

Nicolla took a deep breath. "You really did fall in love with him, didn't you?"

"If you don't mind," Gabrielle said slowly. "I'd rather not talk about all that."

Nicolla considered for a moment and then nodded.

"Okay," she said, rising to her feet. "But if you need to talk, you know where to find me."

Gabrielle nodded.

"You know something?" Nicolla offered. "I never saw Felix so full of himself as when he was around you. He was in love with you too."

"I know," Gabrielle nodded.

"Well," Nicolla continued. "Think about what kind of man he was and how he approached life, and then think about how he'd feel if he saw you right now. I think he'd be annoyed with you."

Gabrielle said nothing, but the pole arm in her hand resumed its rhythmic transformations. Suddenly, she retracted it and tossed it on the ground beside her.

It took a few minutes for the rising pressure to build back again and restart her tears.

Xena had finally gotten out of bed and was making an experimental lap around the nearby tents, working the tenderness out of her reconstituted muscles. Despite the thoroughness of Tyrion's technology, it couldn't remove all the discomfort that injuries brought. She had nearly finished her circuit and was on her way back to the ship when she heard voices emanating from the interior of the Phoenix. Her curiosity piqued, she stepped cautiously up to the side of the hatch.

"With everything that she's been through, Chief," That was Nicolla's voice. "I think keeping her active, even in the capacity of medical assistance, would not be advised. The last thing she needs right now is more stress."

"I agree." That was Tyrion's voice. "She's hurting and angry at the moment. That makes her unreliable in a combat situation at least, and it may impair her judgment in triage. I think she needs to sit out the rest of this campaign at least. Silas?"

"Yeah," the big man sighed. "That girl needs a break."

"Colonel?" Tyrion's voice asked.

Xena's eyebrows rose when she heard the elderly colonel's crisp accented voice.

"While I concur with your assessment on the young ladies condition," he stated. "I must also voice certain cursory issues as well."

There was a pause and then the elderly man's voice resumed.

"We have entered into this campaign, ostensibly to aid in the defense of the rightful citizens of this region, and to that end I have no further objection, however, this operation is about to move from the defensive maintenance of an established position to the conquest of a different region. In this, I will voice my unease and while I am not in a position to assume overall command, Master Chief, I cannot in good conscience continue in any capacity without voicing these concerns."

"At present, we are standing here, discussing the mental and physical capacities of two young ladies," Xena was surprised that the word 'primitive' had been omitted. "And while I feel for their situations as I would for any comrade, I must also express the growing concern that we may all be suffering from similar handicaps in judgment based on recent events. It is easy for us to say to each other, here and now, that Xena and her young friend, both, are not sufficiently recovered from their recent ordeals to be reliable in a combative environment, but can we not also say that about ourselves here?"

"How do you figure that?" Silas's voice again.

"Understand that Master Chief Darquefyre and I have had our differences in the past regarding operational effectiveness and tactics." Allister explained. "I feel that this is due to a difference of opinion based on professional perceptions. As a soldier, I have the utmost respect for each and every one of you. Your team was the one team I could rely on to get the job done which was why, in retrospect, I was, perhaps, more disconnected from you beyond the confines of the military hierarchy. That was an error on my part." He paused for a moment, looking unusually thoughtful.

"But our differences were based on separate approaches to the same available intelligence. We each thought outside the box, as it were, but we also thought from opposite sides of that box, hence our different approaches."

This was Kleegan's way of communicating.

"My point is this," he went on. "My observations and conflicts with you also gave me an interesting viewpoint of how you conducted yourselves in the field, and I must say that, in this particular operation, you are not conducting yourselves according to your profile."

There was a sigh, or perhaps a grunt from one of the other people in the cabin.

"Am I correct in assuming, Master Chief, that in an ordinary theater of engagement, you would have pulled your team out already and re-evaluated the operation, perhaps even withdrawn completely?" Allister said evenly.

"We don't have that option, Colonel," she heard Tyrion say.

"That is where I believe you to be incorrect, Master Chief." Allister replied. "We have all been approaching this theater from a 'last stand' scenario, because we are the only advanced assets available in this conflict. However, this is not a 'last stand' situation. This is a progressive conflict, with numerous assets on both sides. Attrition may only now just be setting in. King Eomer has gained a valuable victory, and weakened the position of his enemy, yes, but we are still in the initial phase of this war. The time for desperate action is not yet upon us, nor do I think, given our current tactical advantage, it will come in the foreseeable future."

"So," Tyrion asked gruffly. "What do you suggest?"

"I agree that you should split the available assets of your ship between the medical and tactical capabilities. However, I do not agree that you should use the Phoenix Fire as a strike craft, rather, it could better be utilized as a troop transport."

"You showed on your Cyerna mission how effective a small, well coordinated, well equipped team could overwhelm a larger, more secure facility. I recommend a variation of that strategy." Allister offered.

Xena perked up when she heard the suggestion.

"What did you have in mind?" Tyrion offered.

There was the sound of footsteps and Xena stepped back a pace from the edge of the door as several of them came into view near the small table at the rear of the cabin.

"Now, what I propose is this," Allister began. "The Kajano have proven to be most effective both as single fighters and in small groups. I suggest we attempt to utilize that strength. Ten squads of ten foot soldiers, each under the command of one Kajano, attacking at strategic points around the stronghold and utilizing guerilla tactics will distract the enemy and open a window for Eomer's forces to breach the primary access point with minimal casualties. If the strike teams gain the opportunity to breach the stronghold, they could do so, covertly and attempt demolitions tasks on secondary targets. Including these buildings here, here, and here, and also the possible heavy weapons emplacements that Lieutenant Mavonski mentioned."

At the mention of Mavon's name, a quiet alarm began to sound in Xena's mind

"Once any threat to the ship is eliminated, we then utilize the Phoenix as a transport to drop reinforcements behind the walls. Those reinforcements can attempt to secure the area near the main gates, or even open them allowing our troops access."

"The real question then becomes, will the troops accept a Kajano leader?" Tyrion asked.

"And will the Kajano be willing to split up like that?" Silas added.

"These are all issues that can be addressed with Korbal before we ask for volunteers," Allister said quickly. "We need to communicate our plan to him after we get as detailed intelligence as we can from Lieutenant Mavonski."

Why was the idea of communicating with Mavon bothering her so much? Xena frowned and tried to reason it out furiously. Had it been something he said? Something he had done? A small quirk in his personality? She wracked her brain trying furiously to isolate the growing concern.

Something he had said? That became the focus all of a sudden. What had he said, or not said?

"Get Mavon on the coms," Tyrion ordered. "Let's see how much detail we can get right now."

"Coms? Mavon and the coms?" Xena pondered, feeling the alarm gain in volume with each passing moment. It was as if she and the others were strolling towards a precipice about to fall to their deaths and they couldn't see it.

"Yo, Mavon!" She heard Silas call out. "Pick it up you little shit!"

Mavon and his coms unit! The thought hit her like a round house punch and the impending disaster reared its ugly head before her eyes.

"No!" she blurted as she ducked quickly into the ship. "Don't call him!"

"Pardon me, Miss," Allister said in surprise.

Xena held a staying hand out towards Silas. "Don't call Mavon!"

Silas removed his finger from the send button on his communications unit.

"What's up, Xe?" He asked.

"When we found out that Gabrielle and Mavon were gone, we found Mavon's' earpiece on the table, remember?"

"Yeah, but he grabbed a spare from Gabrielle's pack and called us," Nicolla replied.

"And left it where Gabrielle was so we could find her!" Xena nodded. "Are there any more of those devices missing?"

Silas went through the stores quickly, turning back with a haunted look in his eyes.

"They're all here," he reported.

"So how is he communicating with you?" Xena asked.

No one spoke for a moment, and then all of them either sighed or groaned in realization.

"Son of a bitch," Silas murmured.

"Well done, my dear," Allister nodded.

"What's up?" Mavon's voice crackled.

Instantly, everyone stiffened, looking from one to the other.

"What's your status?" Tyrion asked quickly, trying to buy time while they wracked their brains.

"So far so good, boss," Mavon's voice replied.

Allister moved to a side panel, rolling his hand forward towards Tyrion, indicating that he should keep the young man talking.

Tyrion nodded, cleared his throat and then hit the send button. "Any more activity from within the compound?"

"Negative," Mavon replied. "Second force is still in prep for deployment. Looks like they're going to send everything they can in your direction, all at once."

Allister began keying commands into a panel and a small screen began blinking. He motioned for Tyrion to continue.

"How about weapons emplacements?" Tyrion continued. "Can you give me more specific locations regarding interior defenses?"

They heard Mavon make a few noises, as if shifting his position.

"Looks like three, no four cats about thirty yards behind the primary wall, covering the main access gate," he reported. "Idiots have them clustered together pretty tight. Looks like they could blanket the approach with suppression fire when you make your move in the morning."

"Okay," Tyrion replied. "Where are you holed up for the moment?"

Allister nodded as the computer worked. He paused only for a moment as he caught Xena, watching him intently.

"About two hundred yards due west of the wall, on a small rise, just inside the tree line," Mavon said.

"Understood." Tyrion replied. "Stay put for now, do not approach the stronghold until you hear from me, got it?"

"What's on your mind boss?" Mavon asked. It was an innocent enough question, and had Xena not voiced her concerns, Tyrion would have probably relayed their plans without concern. Now, however, the inquiry had taken on an ominous note that made them all hold their breath.

"Remember what we talked about before?" Tyrion asked evenly.

"Yeah," Mavon replied.

"Well, it's a go." Tyrion said evenly "I'm going to unload every piece of ordinance I got, so stay clear until the fireworks are finished. Understood?"

"Confirmed," Mavon replied easily.

"Once the strike is initiated, work your way around to the southern access road and link up with our troops moving towards the main gates. You still have those demolitions satchels?"

"I got em," Mavon responded.

"Good," Tyrion replied. "You and Silas are going in with the demolitions gear to breach the main gate. Once that's done, hang back and let Eomer's troops clear the grounds, we'll rendezvous at the base of the tower."

Allister looked back at Tyrion, his expression was grim. He nodded once again.

"Go to complete blackout from here on in, communications only in emergency, understood?" Tyrion finished.

"Copy that, Chief," Mavon acknowledged. "See you in the morning. Bring caf."

The line went dead.

Tyrion removed his earpiece and set it on the table.

"Lose them," he instructed. One by one, they each set their communicators on the table. Silas collected them and locked them in the storage locker.

Allister looked at the monitor and sighed.

"Well, that settles it," he said, pointing at the image on the screen. It showed an overlay of the surrounding area, including the bowl that was the fortress of Isengard.

"According to this," He explained. "Mavon's signal originated from here," he pointed to the center of the valley. "Right where the central tower is located. So, either he was taken prisoner, or?"

The rest of that statement did not need to be aired. They all knew what it meant.

"They're going to be expecting an attack from the air," Tyrion said thickly. "We need to give them the impression that we don't know any better."

"What you got in mind, Chief?" Silas asked.

Tyrion walked out of the ship. A few moments later, they heard him roar at the top of his lungs. A sound filled with rage and challenge. Then he came back in and fixed himself a drink.

"What the hell was that about?" Silas asked.

"Had to make a call," Tyrion said cryptically.

A few moments later, Korbal, followed by Agran and Thegar strode into the ship, growling.

"Couldn't think of any other way to get your attention," Tyrion said to the big alien. "Our communications have been compromised, and Mavon is out of the game. He could be captured, or dead, we don't know."

Korbal nodded. _"I understand."_

"We need to know if you and your boys would be willing to take command of small attack groups of soldiers and hit the stronghold from various points." Tyrion went on.

"I know you like to work alone, or with your own kind, but this might be a way for us to breach the fortress and take them down without risking the ship."

Korbal considered for a moment. _"We will confer."_

He turned and the three Kajano exited.

Tyrion turned to Xena. "I assume you were listening to the entire conversation?" he asked with a wry smile.

Xena matched his gaze and nodded.

"Okay," Tyrion looked at the other expectant faces in the room. "Why don't you give us your opinion then?"

Xena raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.

"Alright," she said. She looked at Allister. "I think you were right."

"You do?" Silas asked.

"That's quite an admission, young lady," Allister replied.

"I also think that you aren't who you claim to be," Xena finished with ice in her voice.

"I beg your pardon?" Allister replied.

"Every time something has gone wrong," Xena continued. "You've been conveniently absent. Every time someone's been lost in this campaign, where have you been?"

She strode around the table, her eyes locked on the colonel like two deadly gems.

"I saw the group that attacked Felix and Mavon, almost as if they knew where to find him. I watched as they managed to circumvent all resistance without even trying, as if they weren't even seen. They didn't bother with any other soldiers, and they didn't move like regular Orcs. Their sole purpose was to eliminate Felix and Mavon, only you missed, and Mavon survived." She went on. "They were cloaked somehow, so no one on the field saw them until it was too late. Aside from divine intervention, the Kajano are the only creatures who can do that."

"Xena," Nicolla said evenly.

"You came in here and took over," Xena went on. "And you did so just long enough to throw everyone off balance. Then you suddenly have a change of heart, but by then, the events were unfolding, and you did just enough to keep Tyrion and his people jumping so that they never get a chance to really look at the situation, then the whole thing with the Kajano. You were planning on them attacking Edoras, so you have Silas and the others bolster those defenses. The attack would have been something much bigger and grander than if just Eomer and his people were there to fight, but you didn't count on Felix brokering a truce with them."

Eyes began to turn towards the old soldier, now lit with rising suspicion.

"Do you know what you're saying?" Nicolla continued.

"The thing that really sold it though," Xena held up a hand, staying Nicolla's protest. "Was the way you manipulated Gabrielle."

"And how did I do that?" Allister said evenly.

"You put all that stuff in her head," Xena went on. "Even if Nicolla had been completely unprepared to wake Gabrielle up, she's good enough to know if the person she was trying to help would try and take something from her. But not if you did it."

"And just how would I accomplish that?" Allister asked.

"Right after Tyrion's ship crashed." Xena explained. "They were all unconscious. You could have taken anything you wanted from any of them, to use later. Then, when we arrived in Edoras, I saw the way you were looking at Gabrielle during Felix's little explanation of his conversation with Korbal. You were completely focused on her. I get nervous when a man looks sideways at her, call me overprotective, but I've seen her hurt before."

"That hardly proves anything, my dear," Allister replied.

She leaned against the table. "When you weren't looking at Gabrielle, I also saw you look past Felix at the corner where Korbal was hiding, almost as if you could see him before he appeared. When Korbal finally showed himself, everyone reacted, instinctively grabbing fro weapons, ready to defend ourselves before Felix reigned the situation back in."

She smiled icily. "Everyone but you."

Now all eyes were on the colonel questioningly.

"Now," Xena went on. "I have to ask myself, what kind of person would be able to do all those things? Pierce the cloak of a Kajano, affect Gabrielle, and cloak a group of enemies in the thick of a battle without even being present? Never mind faking that conversation with Mavon while working on a piece of the ship that Felix told me was irreparable."

She folded her arms across her chest. "I've had enough experience with the gods of my world to know when one is in front of me."

Tyrion looked back at the sensors panel. It was working perfectly, showing the originating source of Mavon's transmission.

"The night Felix and Tyrion had their little argument in front of Gabrielle and I," Xena explained. "I followed Felix back here and found him working on some of the equipment. He was trying to get as much of the ship fixed as he could and he showed me some of the things that he was working on. When I asked about that panel, he explained to me that he had had to cannibalize some of the parts from it for other repairs, yet there it is, apparently working?"

Instantly, Tyrion, Nicolla and Silas all drew their side arms and pointed them at the Colonel.

Allister looked around at them, but there was no concern in his expression. Instead, a cold smile crept across his face.

"Gods," he scoffed. "I would expect such a title from a primitive, such as yourself."

He looked at the weapons pointed at him and shook his head. "If what the young lady says is true," he went on. "Do you really think that your primitive weapons would be any concern to me?"

He fixed his eyes on Xena again. "Mariestopholitaltos told me that you were perceptive, my dear. I fear that I may have underestimated your talents."

Xena frowned.

"You don't know as much as you think you do, my dear," Allister continued. "In any event, your stratagems are known to me. They were known to me before you aired them, and I find the whole sequence of events most stimulating."

He slowly stepped from around the table to stand near the hatch, his hands held up in a gesture that mocked surrender.."

"Who are you?" Nicolla asked in horror.

Allister only smiled.

"Master Chief? According to you, Combat is a fluid and ever unpredictable situation. Your plans must anticipate and adapt to new challenges at the drop of a hat. Keeping this in mind, it will be interesting to see what you do next?" He looked at them all in turn and smiled. "Until we meet again."

There was a soft flash of light and Allister vanished. At the same time, various pieces of equipment in the ship suddenly went dark. The panel that had been showing the location of Mavon's purported location was now a dark and cracked screen with various wires hanging loosely from inside the wall of the ship.

"Son of a bitch," Silas whispered.

From the flight deck there came a soft beeping.

Tyrion's eyes went wide. "Oh hell no," he murmured. He bolted for the cockpit and leaned over the controls.

"Dammit!" he shouted. "The reactor is breached! Thirty seconds!"

"What?" Nicolla blurted.

"Grab the weapons!" Silas bellowed, scooping up an armload of equipment.

Nicolla reached down and also collected what she could as Tyrion rushed from the flight deck. He ripped the broken storage compartment open and grabbed an armload of gear as the four of them made a desperate dash for safety.

"Get clear! Get clear!" he bellowed to several soldiers standing nearby.

An orange glow emanated from within the Phoenix Fire for just a moment before the entire vessel erupted in a huge ball of brilliant fire. The shock of the explosion ripped through the camp, rending structures and nearby men with devastating force.

Chras stood upon the balcony of Orthanc, watching as the large distant glow faded to soft orange flickering.

Behind him, another of the Dunlendings stood, watching the spectacle with wide eyed wonder.

"What is this tale?" He asked in awe.

Chras considered. "Some ill fate has befallen our foe, it would seem."

He turned back into the chamber beyond.

He considered for along moment. "We must take hold of this opportunity," he said quickly. "If the army of Eomer has suffered some great misfortune, it may have placed them in disarray. Unleash the Huna-Kai!"

"What of the devilish warriors that guard Eomer's forces?" this advisor asked. "They possess strange powers!"

"Do as I command!" Chras bellowed. He turned and headed for the stairs to the ground.

When the Lord of Orthanc emerged from the front doors of the tower, he was dressed in fine black armor, a helm beneath his arm, and a sword at his hip.

"The enemy marches to us!" he shouted over the din of voices below. He looked down at the figures massed below, dark, inhuman Orc faces leered up at him hungrily. Cold inhuman eyes filled with malice and harsh voices clamored around him.

"The scum of Rohan think they can overwhelm us in our stronghold! They are mistaken! March to war! Raze Eomer's camp to the ground! Do not stop until you reach the enemy, let nothing stand in your way!"

The host roared in anticipation. Spears clashed upon shield, banners waved in the light of the failing moon. All about the tower, red eyes rose to the sky and voices howled.

"To war!" Chras thundered.

The entire host turned and moved through the massive gates.

Eomer moved through the carnage, his expression grim. Nearby, Tyrion and his people worked feverishly to aid the wounded. The ground was littered with the wreckage of his camp and the bodies of the dead, some blasted beyond recognition.

"The enemy will have seen the fire," he said to Breggolard. "They will hasten to take advantage of our misfortune. Not even Master Korbal will be able to stop the tide that shall rush toward us now."

He turned and looked back towards the waiting shadows of the nearby woods.

"We must array our defenses on this side of the river," he continued. "And protect our wounded."

Even as he gave the commands, he saw a single figure emerge from the trees, approaching at a jog. By the silhouette he could discern that it was the errant member of Tyrion's company.

"Have that man brought to me, alive and unarmed." Eomer ordered. "And trust to nothing he says. After what Master Tyrion has said to me, we can be certain of nothing."

"My Lord," Breggolard nodded.

When Tyrion was summoned to the King's tent, he was surprised to find Mavon, with his hands bound behind his back, sitting on a stool before the ruler of Rohan.

On Eomer's left side stood his captains, Argoman and Breggolard, and on his right, the imposing figure of Korbal stood, his monstrous arms crossed over his chest, his red eyes fixed on Mavon.

"About fucking time!" he blurted angrily. "Will you tell me what the hell is going on?"

"We discovered him returning to the camp, Master Tyrion," Eomer said. "In light of what you confided to me earlier, I felt prudence was in order."  
"I agree," Tyrion replied, fixing Mavon with a dark stare.

"Have you all gone wonko?" Mavon asked. "I see a huge fucking fireball! Then I see the entire damn fortress let out like an adolescent education center at recess, and double time it all the way back here, and this is what I get?"

Tyrion drew his side arm and pointed it at Mavon's head.

"Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Mavon flinched. "What the fuck!"

"How do I know it's you?" Tyrion growled.

"How do you know it's me?" Mavon was incredulous. "What the fuck it this shit?"

"Answer the question!" Tyrion bellowed. "Or I swear on my daughters' grave, I'll launch your melon into orbit right now!"

Mavon looked from Tyrion to the king and back, his eyes wide. Sweat trickled down his forehead. "How am I supposed to answer that question, huh? I know who I am and so you should too, okay? I got nothing better than that at the moment! I know I'm me so you fucking should to!"

"And the coms calls you made?" Tyrion didn't waver.

"What coms calls?" Mavon protested. "I didn't have a fucking com, so how the hell was I supposed to call you? All I did was go AWOL for a day and this is what happens? Shit! I should have stayed in the fucking woods!"

Silas, Nicolla, Gabrielle and Xena came jogging into the tent and each stopped short when they saw Tyrion with his gun at Mavon's head.

"Whoa," Silas gasped.

"Nicky!" Mavon looked back at them. "Will you tell him for god sake! Tell him or brain freeze him!"

"Tyrion," Gabrielle said nervously.

"How do we know?" Tyrion asked again.

"I know!" Mavon shot back. "I know cause I know, okay!"

Suddenly, the flap of the tent was pulled up and Mavon burst inside.

"Chief, we got a big problem!" He stopped short when he saw the confrontation. "What the fuck is this?"

Eomer rose from his seat, his eyes wide in shock.

Korbal's arms dropped and the massive double bladed weapons on his wrist extended with a sharp clang.

Tyrion turned and fired at the Mavon standing near the tent entrance. There was a flash of light and that figure vanished in a puff. Sinister laughter echoed through the tent before it faded away.

"What the hell was that?" Mavon asked from the seat, now more confused than ever.

"That was the proof I needed," Tyrion holstered his weapon. He bent and released the bindings holding his friend. Then he gave the errant man a swift whap across the back of the head. "Welcome back you little shit."

"Yeah, thanks a lot!" Mavon rose, rubbing some feeling back into his hands. Then he looked at them all and blurted. "Now what the fuck is going on?"

The party withdrew to the small open area outside the tent they had prepared to house the wounded. It took several times before Mavon accepted the explanation. Even then, he still looked dubious.

"One thing," Gabrielle asked. "How did you know the one by us wasn't the real Mavon?"

Tyrion smiled.

He looked up at the figure of Agran, standing near the back of the tent flexing his healing arm experimentally.

"Timing, for one," he said. "Whoever that fellow is, he was looking to play on our uncertainty. He was hoping I'd pop the real Mavon here when he came barging in.

"Okay," Xena replied. "Timing. But it still could have been the real Mavon that arrived second?"

"Yeah," Tyrion nodded. "But I also saw this." He reached over and patted the upper pocket of Mavon's vest. He felt the familiar shape of the red crystal that each of them carried. "The second one didn't have the same bulge in their upper left pocket."

"Yeah?" Mavon replied sourly. "But in the end it was still a fucking guess, chief."

Tyrion shrugged.

Mavon groaned and took another long drink for Silas's bottle of whiskey.

"I got another question," Silas said, nodding to the large armor clad Paldorian standing nearby. "Why is he so chummy with us all of a sudden?"

Agran looked up at the big man and growled ominously.

"Not that I mind," Silas finished quickly.

Agran's posture relaxed somewhat and he folded his arms across his chest.

"If I understand everything that Felix and Korbal discussed," Tyrion turned and looked at Agran for clarification. "You volunteered to take Felix's place with us, correct?"

Agran nodded.

"_The blind one preserved me,"_ he grated with uncharacteristic clarity in spite of the grating inhuman cadence of his voice. _"And I understand you better than the rest."_

"If I understand everything you and Korbal said to me," Tyrion went on. "This is a debt that you feel you must repay."

The big alien nodded his armored head once.

Tyrion couldn't quite contain his smile as he looked over at Mavon.

"Say hello to your new partner, Mave."

Mavon choked in mid swallow, and the rejected liquor frothed from his mouth in a series of coughs.

"My what?" he finally managed to gasp.

"I figure, Agran, here is more than capable of keeping your ass in line," Tyrion continued. "That's what you get for going AWOL."

He turned back to the others. "Okay, back to the matter in hand. Xena?"

"Things have changed now," Xena said from her seat near the side of the tent. "This God,"

"No such animal," Mavon interjected.

"Whatever," Xena continued. "Allister acted like he was familiar with Gabrielle and I, or knew someone who had encountered us before."

"And?"

"That means he might know someone that can get us home, for one," Xena continued.

"Okay," Tyrion mused. "What was the name he dropped?"

"Mariesopholitaltos," Nicolla said immediately.

"How in the hell do you remember a name like that?" Silas asked.

Nicolla smiled and tapped the side of her temple. "Most tellers have an eidetic memory. We see words."

"Okay," Tyrion nodded. "Xena, the name Mariosto, Marieiston, ah hell, Nicky?"

"Mariesopholitaltos," Nicky said again with a smile.

"Yeah, that one," Tyrion continued. "Name ring a bell?"

The two of them exchanged thoughtful looks, but in the end they both began to shake their heads.

"Well," Xena went on. "Whatever Allister knows about me, it may mean that I'm a risk to any plans you might make." She sighed as she realized that she may have to bow out of the leading role she was currently holding.

"Wait a second," Gabrielle said, holding up one finger. Her gaze was focused inward, filled with contemplative thought.

"What?" Silas asked.

"Just, let me think for a second," Gabrielle replied quickly.

They all waited patiently while Gabrielle ran the possibilities through her mind. Slowly she began to smile.

"I got it," she said a few moments later.

"Great," Tyrion replied, forcing a smile. "Now, what have you got?"

"It's Ares," Gabrielle looked at Xena. "Allister knows Ares."

"We don't know that for sure," Xena countered.

"I do," Gabrielle replied with certainty.

She sat forward and began gesticulating as she spoke.

"His name is Mariesopholitaltos, right?" she said, looking at Nicky.

"Now why in the hell can't I do that?" Silas asked with an appreciative smile.

Nicky nodded to Gabrielle. "Right."

"Just break it up into parts," Gabrielle continued with a grin. "His name is part of a larger one, and that name is a combination of various names he goes by."

"And just how many of his aliases do you know?" Tyrion asked dubiously.

"I only know two for sure," Gabrielle replied. "In Rome he's known as Mars, and in Greece, we know him as Ares, right?"

"Okay," Silas replied. "So?"

"Mars and Ares," Gabrielle repeated. "Just combine the two and you get the 'Maries' portion of his name. I don't doubt that the rest of his name is parts of names he goes by in other cultures on our home world."

"Not bad, kiddo," Tyrion nodded. "Okay, we know who tipped our friend on to Xena and Gabrielle."

Gabrielle smiled triumphantly. "It's good to be the bard."

"Now who tipped him on to us?" Tyrion continued.

"Excuse me," Mavon raised a hand. "Are we forgetting about the big group of bad guys coming up our noses right now? That was why I came running back to your warm and happy welcome."

"We hit them pretty good on the field the other day," Tyrion said. "They can't have that much left in the way of troops?"

Mavon was shaking his head, even as Tyrion made his summation.

"They still had a good chunk of reserves left, in case things went south, which they did," Mavon reported. "They were probably holding back their second force to maintain a defensive position in the complex, should we come knocking on their front door. They must have either seen the blast, or been tipped off to it somehow, because they emptied the place out. I think the only one's left in the stronghold are the command staff, maybe some personal bodyguards, but that's about it."

"How long have we got?" Xena asked.

"It took me the better part of the night to sprint back here," Mavon considered. "I would figure that this second wave should hit us shortly after sun up, figure seven hours, tops?"

"Alright," Tyrion nodded. "Weapons prep and then grab some shuteye. I need everyone fresh for the next engagement." His eyes traveled across the faces before him.

"We're going to have to conserve ammo and equipment from here on in, so, stay sharp. If you use arms, use short, controlled bursts or single shots as much as possible. Watch each others backs. I don't want to lose any more of us, okay?"

With the loss of Felix still so fresh in their minds, that statement sobered everyone in the room.

"I'll check in with Eomer and go over plans. We'll meet here in six hours. Dismissed."

"I'll come with you," Xena offered. "I want to get his opinion on something."

Tyrion nodded.

"Xena?" Gabrielle asked.

"Go get some rest," Xena offered gently. "You've been through a lot lately."

"But?" Gabrielle started, and then her gaze became suspicious.

"I want you to rest," Xena said, trying to calm her concerns. "I promise I'll fill you in on everything, okay?"

Tyrion waited until the two of them were far enough away from the tent before speaking his mind.

"Okay," He asked, looking sidelong at Xena. "Why'd you just put her off?"

Xena sighed. "She's already been through so much. I know she wants to do something to make amends for everything that's happened, especially the part where she shot Nicky and me."

She looked down at her leg and then sighed. "I know her. She'll keep pushing herself until she thinks she's made up for it, even though she doesn't have to. The trouble with that is, sometimes, she doesn't know when to quit."

"That sounds familiar," Tyrion replied.

Xena gave him a frosty, sidelong glance.

"Also," Xena went on. "I have some other concerns."

"Do tell?"

_The sound of the rippling water was like soft, soothing music as they lay beneath a large ash tree, the thick, comfortable blankets wrapped about them. Gabrielle could hear his heart beating, soft and steady within his chest._

_She was whole again, safe again, lost in the simple pleasure of his arm wrapped comfortingly about her shoulders._

_A soft, contented sigh slipped from her lips and she smiled._

"_So," Felix said gently. "This was what you meant by a bottle of wine near the river?"_

_She nodded._

"_I'm sorry I missed it," he said softly, as if bestowing a secret._

_Her dreamy relaxation melted away. She was dreaming, that much she knew. It was a fantasy, a hope of what would have been when she and Felix would have finally had the moment she was ready for. Suddenly, something about it felt wrong._

_Feeling a sense of dread crawl into her slumbering mind, she slowly looked up into his face. His eyes were sharp, penetrating, an almost inhuman pale blue, unlike any she had ever seen before. She suddenly realized that she was seeing him as he truly would have been, before the blinding injury that had required the wondrous prosthetics. But how was this possible? She had never seen him like this before._

_He must have seen the fear in her expression, because he smiled gently and place a hand on her cheek. _

"_It's alright, Gabs," he said gently. "You aren't having a nightmare. This isn't some unseen terror waiting to jump up and ruin another opportunity for us."_

_He smiled, and she beheld some of that mischief that had so enthralled her before._

"_Felix?" she asked, but a finger gently pressed against her lips._

"_Listen to me, Gabs," he said in a hushed whisper. "When this little event is done playing itself out, you should have control of Isengard and its surrounding area. You may even wind up with a P.O.W. who claims to be in charge of the whole thing. He's going to be lying. You need to convince Tyrion and the others to go immediately to Dol-Guldor. They have a day to secure Isengard, two at the absolute most, and then you have to be moving again, do you understand?"_

_She shook her head. "I – how are you? Are you still alive? I saw you?"_

_He kissed her suddenly. "Don't say anything, Gabrielle. Don't even think about what happened, alright? What you saw did happen, but it was only a small part of it. I can't tell you any more. Not yet. And you can't tell anyone where you got this information, for both our sakes, alright?"_

"_But," Gabrielle stammered. Then she looked into his eyes. "How do I know it's you? How do I know that this, whatever this is, is really, really you?"_

"_I can't do, or say anything that will convince you, Gabby," he smiled. "And I'm sorry about that. I'm sorry that this moment didn't happen with us, like this. You know I wanted it to."_

"_So do I," Gabrielle said. Then she blinked. "Did I, I mean." _

_He smiled. "All I can say is, it is me, after a fashion, and I don't have any way to prove it to you. I guess you'll just have to trust me?"_

_He offered a slight shrug._

"_I do trust you, Felix," she replied. "I just,"_

_He placed his fingers against her lips again._

"_No," he said quickly. "Don't say anything. Just rest. You need it more than you've been letting on lately."_

"_Felix?" he asked._

"_Close your eyes," he smiled, whispering gently. "Sleep."_

_Gabrielle felt her fear melting away in his arms and she sank back into that warm, safe place that only his embrace promised._

"_Why did you have to die?" she whispered softly, mournfully._

"_Rest," his voice echoed around her._

There were a mere four hours before the plan would have to be executed, precious little time for sleep.

Tyrion and Xena moved slowly back through the camp.

"I like it," he nodded. "A variation on a theme."

"It worked well enough on our way here," Xena nodded. "And if the Kajano can move ahead and take care of any scouts while we set up, then so much the better."

"The coordination is going to be the trick," Tyrion offered. "Without coms, we're going to have to be pretty accurate on our time table."

"That's what I'm used to, Tyrion," Xena offered with a smile. "Primitive, remember?"

Tyrion winced slightly. "Look, Xe, whenever I say that, I don't mean it in a negative way, you understand?"

"I understand it," Xena replied. "You refer to the method, not me personally. I get it."

Tyrion nodded. "Just so I don't offend."

"Oh, you do," Xena replied. "I've just learned to deal with it."

He glanced at her sharply, and then for the first time, saw something of humor in her eyes. He chuckled.

"Got me there."

They both slowed their approach to the tent when they saw Agran and Thegar standing outside, as if on guard duty.

"Sheesh, boys," Tyrion offered. "Don't you sleep?"

The two steel gray faceplates turned to one another and then back at them again.

"_No,"_ Agran answered.

As the first red rays of dawn began to color the eastern sky, the two contingents of Eomer's forces crossed the river.

Argoman's forces, with Mavon, Agran, and one of the Bundi Hunters of the Kajano contingent moved along a rough path that would carry them up the western flank of the enemy, while Breggolard, with Tyrion, Silas, and the second Bundi Hunter marched along a similar route to the eastern side.

Xena, Gabrielle, Nicolla, Thegar, and Korbal with his remaining triad of Paldorians stayed with Eomer's forces on the southern bank of the river, fortifying positions in anticipation of the coming assault.

The primary weapons of Eomer's forces were the archers of Rohan along with the remaining foot soldiers of the Gondorian army, a mere two thousand men in total, hardly enough to withstand a determined assault should the plan not go accordingly.

Signal trumpeters on the eastern and western ends of the line stood ready to signal the reinforcements at a signal from the King's camp in the center of the line.

Eomer stood at the entrance to his tent, his eyes filled with fierce light as he studied the ominous shadows beneath the leaves of the forest before him.

All was still and ominously silent

As the sun began to arc higher the men became restless with the anticipation of battle, and still, nothing was heard from the northern bank.

"Something is amiss, I fear," Eomer growled. "The enemy should have fallen upon us more than an hour ago."

Korbal nodded, growling. Then he turned and looked at Thegar, standing nearby.

No audible words were exchanged, but the big Tunji Scout nodded once and jogged towards the river.

"Thegar," Gabrielle called after the creature. It halted and turned its emotionless face plate towards her.

"Be careful," Gabrielle offered.

Thegar nodded again and then ran towards the river, melting into nothingness as he leapt across the water.

The big scout was not gone very long. He rematerialized among them less than an hour later. Korbal turned to Eomer.

"_They wait for us,"_ he said. _"They hunt us."_

"Indeed?" Eomer asked. "Perhaps they need some encouragement? How near to the edge of the forest do they lay in wait?"

"_Very near,"_ Korbal replied.

Eomer turned to a messenger. "Have master Hallas signal the archers to loose a volley into the trees." He turned to Korbal. "Would you care to add your weapons to the volley, Master Korbal?"

The messenger ran down the embankment to Hallas, standing near the banner.

Something like a deep, growling chuckle emanated from Korbal as he nodded. He and his three Paldorian bodyguards strode purposefully down towards the center of the line, their shoulder cannons swiveling experimentally.

Xena suddenly saw what was happening. The archer emplacements on Eomer's side of the river were well within bowshot of the enemy if they were concealed just within the trees.

"Wait!" she cried out, but it was too late.

A veritable cloud of black feathered arrows erupted from the shadows of the opposite bank, arcing across the water towards the archers on the southern side, most of them concentrated on the four massive creatures coming towards them.

Thegar roared, but it was too late. The three Paldorian Knights, turned and covered Korbal, shielding him with their armored bodies as hundreds of arrows fell.

Men cried in horror as arrows pierced their flesh. Some made a mad dash to escape the deadly rain, only to stumble and fall.

Eomer saw Hallas consumed in a veritable wall of projectiles, along with his archers and the messenger sent to instruct him.

"Loose your arrows!" he roared at the top of his lungs. "Sound the heralds, now!"

The rain of death died away, and then Eomer's forces answered, but their numbers were severely diminished.

Suddenly, cannon blasts from the Paldorians and Korbal began shredding the forest.

Eomer watched in amazement as the three Paldorians, all with arrows piercing their inhuman flesh, stood lacing the trees in blue fire.

In spite of the cover provided by his children, Korbal himself had not escaped the onslaught unscathed.

They backed away from the bank slowly, their cannons decimating limbs, exploding trunks and toppling trees by the dozens.

Inhuman cries erupted from the forest beyond as the destruction finally took hold among the enemy.

Eomer looked to the east and west and saw the banners of the heralds, lying in the bloody earth.

Quickly, he grabbed for a curved horn and placed it to his lips.

The blast that erupted from it pierced the morning, ringing across the trees and echoing in the shallow valley.

He continued the clarion call until, in the distance, he heard the answers of his reinforcements. Even as the two prongs of Xena's 'Palanthus Trident' began to close. Orcs in their hundreds surged from the trees in a black wave and charged across the river into the remains of Eomer's contingent.

It was immediately apparent that the losses incurred by the initial volley were too great for him to hold his line together.

Suddenly, there was another hail of arrows dropping on the enemy as they charged.

They all looked up at the cloud of whizzing projectiles over their heads, and then back to see a line of men on horses charging forward, all dressed in the sable and silver of the king of Gondor.

At the head of the charge was a man in a silver helm, with a sword shining in the sunlight.

Beside him, two more figures rode on a single horse. The forward rider was thin and lithe, with flowing golden hair and piercing eyes. He was not dressed as the other soldiers, but rather in dark greens and browns. The long bow he was firing was more ornate than those of the others, and the silver feathered arrows.

Behind him, barely keeping his seat was a short, stocky figure, clad in this steel armor.

The enemy charge faltered for a moment as these unexpected reinforcements crested the hill and surrounded the kings' position.

Then the pincers of the attack closed on either side of the enemy as the two remaining contingents of Eomer's army charged in from either side and behind, driving the Orc host from the trees and into the waiting bows of Rohan.

With the hope of retreat cut from behind them and the reinforced battalions before them, the Orc host fought bitterly, but in the end, they fell to the last man before the sun had reached mid day.

The leader of this unexpected troop reined his horse before the king and nodded in greeting.

"Well met, My Lord Eomer," he said in a familiar voice. "I bring greetings from the King of Gondor."

He removed his silver helm and looked down at the others.

"My Lord Denethor!" Eomer replied. "Of all joys, this is the least expected!"

Denethor dropped to the ground and bowed to Eomer. "The Lord Aragorn sends his greetings and all that he could spare to your defense, in honor of our allegiance."

"And it is graciously accepted," Eomer replied. "Rise my friend and tell me how you knew to find us here, near the fjords of Isen?"

The horse bearing two passengers trotted to a halt and the two figures dropped to the ground.

Instantly, Eomer's smile widened.

"It has been some time since I beheld you, Master Legolas," he nodded. "And my Lord Gimli."

"We found the men of Gondor on the field north of Edoras, where they had heard tidings of your march," Legolas explained breathlessly. "They were marching to Helms Deep, thinking your forces would have withdrawn there, when we discovered them and set them right."

He turned and looked at the others near the king, nodding to them in greeting.

Suddenly, the elf drew an arrow and bent his bow with lightning speed as Korbal and his escort approached.

Instantly, the stocky dwarf was at his side, his massive double bladed axe out and ready.

The four Kajano crouched, ready to attack.

Eomer stepped before the elf, his hands up.

"Stay your shot, Master Elf," he said quickly. "And Master Dwarf, lower your axe. These are friends of Rohan."

"My King," Gimli growled. "These were the very beasts that over ran your garrison at Helms Deep in a single night! The things they did with the dead were terrible to behold!"

"As I have heard the tale told," Eomer replied. He turned and looked back at Korbal and his guards.

"They have since atoned for those crimes against Rohan, and shown to be true and faithful allies." He finished. "No weapon held by a friend of the Eolingas shall touch them. That is my command."

Legolas lowered his bow, his deep blue eyes fixing on Korbal with inhuman intensity.

Thegar and the remaining Kajano stepped up to flank the rest of their brethren, their yellow eye plates flashing in the smoky gloom.

Denethor stared in wonder at the massive creatures, unsure of what, if anything would be an appropriate greeting.

His eyes spied another set of figures approaching and he nodded.  
"Master Tyrion," he greeted. "Well met!"

"Well, shit!" Tyrion grinned. "What brings you here in the nick of time?"

"My Lord Aragorn commanded a muster of the army when the wounded from your initial battle returned to the city," Denethor reported. He turned back to Eomer. "I bring four thousand of horse and foot, with an additional two thousand sent to garrison Edoras against our return, My Lord."

Denethor stopped short when Xena and Gabrielle stepped up to the group.

His steely eyes seemed transfixed and a small smile spread across his features.

Gabrielle noted this and a smile of her own began to appear.

Xena also seemed rooted in place.

It was Denethor who finally broke the spell.

"My men are ready to organize our defenses against the next wave, My Lord," he offered, tearing his gaze away from Xena.

"What next wave?" Mavon grinned. "That was the last of them."

Silas was also grinning.

"All through mopping up, Master Chief," the big man reported. "We got us a clear shot right to Isengard."

Gabrielle looked at the two soldiers and smiled in spite of a twinge in her gut.

Then her eyes fell on Korbal, bleeding from various wounds obtained during the hail of Orc arrows.

"You're hurt," she said, stepping over to the big creature.

The green blood was thick and luminous in spite of the brightness of the sun. Gingerly, she checked each wound and then began going through her bag.

"I need some bandages," she called over her shoulder. "And some water so I can clean these,"

She stopped when she felt large cool fingers gently engulf her wrist.

She looked up at Korbal, who slowly shook his head.

"But," Gabrielle stammered. "You can't just leave those open like that?"

Korbal looked back at one of the other Paldorians and nodded.

The armor clad creature hit a small release on his thigh and a narrow black container slid out of a slot in the pad.

The Paldorian lifted the stiff, paper thin lid, revealing several small instruments. He set a circular device on a low flat stone and pressed a plate on it. A short, shallow bowl fanned out and a small flame ignited beneath it.

The expressionless faceplate considered some of the debris around him for a moment and then crushed a portion of a fallen horn in his hand, dropping the contents on the burner. He then added a second handful of damp, dark earth to the mix, and finally a small cylinder of material from the kit.

At the touch of the alien material, a thick antiseptic odor permeated the air. The contents of the mixture began to change, taking on a brilliant bluish hue.

Korbal seated himself before the Paldorian who turned the viscous mixture with a small, smooth tool. Once the mixture was complete, The Paldorian took up the bowl and stepped over to Korbal. He spread the makeshift poultice over the first of Korbal's wounds.

There was a sizzling sound and the big alien hissed as if in pain. The antiseptic smell was replaced by an acrid burning smell that made their noses wrinkle.

"On second thought," Gabrielle offered, deferring to the other Kajano. "You seem to have it under control."

The Paldorian offered her a single nod and focused again on healing Korbal's wounds.

"Am I to understand that the road is open to Isengard then?" Denethor was asking.

"Wide open," Mavon replied. "This bunch of uglies was the last of their reserves."

"The enemy has sent all his remaining strength against us, here," Eomer said. "If Master Mavon is to be believed, we should find little resistance on our road to Isengard.

"The men are weary with battle, My Lord," Breggolard said. "We should allow them time to rest and tend to the wounded."

"I agree," Eomer nodded. "We shall stay here tonight and ride to Isengard on the morrow.

"No," Gabrielle blurted suddenly. All eyes turned on her expectantly.

"Gabrielle?" Xena raised an eyebrow.

She looked nervously at the others and gulped. "I can't explain it, but I just feel like we don't have as much time as we think we do, if that makes any sense."

"Not really," Mavon replied. He looked up at the towering figure of Agran, standing next to him. "Then again, neither does the fact that I got a Kajano as my backup."

Agran looked down at him and growled.

"So," Mavon continued with a grin. "Stranger things are happening."

Eomer considered for a moment.

"It will not serve us well to continue as we have, rushing from one battle to the next. We need time to collect ourselves and gather our strength."

He arranged for a council several hours later and then dismissed the gathering on the field.

"Okay Gabs," Tyrion asked a short time later as they gathered in the team's tent. "What's with this sense of urgency?"

The young bard looked around the tent nervously. "I can't tell you," she finally admitted. "At least, not yet."

"Well," Silas rumbled. "I don't like the sound of that."

"I can't plead our case if you don't give me anything to work with, Gabs," Tyrion said. "At least, I need to know why you think we have to move so fast."

"I know," Gabrielle answered. It was clear from her expression that she desperately wanted to share whatever it was that was influencing her decision. "I just, I can't say why, really. Only that I feel like the sand is running out in the hourglass, you know?"

"Gabrielle," Xena said gently. "I know this is important to you. But with everything that's happened in the last few days," she stopped.

"You think I might be unreliable," Gabrielle finished for her.

"No one said that, Lil Bit," Silas said quickly. "But you ain't giving us much to go on."

Korbal stared at Gabrielle with fierce, inquisitive eyes.

"_I can send Thegar to explor_e," he offered. Behind him, the Kajano Scout also rose to his feet expectantly.

"I appreciate that, Kor," Tyrion replied. "But the Orcs almost bait and switched you to death today. I'd rather not risk it until we're back up to par, or we have a little more to go on?" He looked back at Gabrielle expectantly.

Gabrielle looked at the group hopefully and then, finally nodded. "I understand."

"And I ain't gonna deal with you running off on your own again neither," Silas added with a smile. "So don't even think about that."

Even though the comment had been made with levity, it was instantly apparent that Gabrielle did not see any humor in it.

She rose and walked quickly out of the tent.

"Gabrielle," Xena called after her as she rose to follow. "Wait!"

Outside, Xena found her friend pacing. The young bard's expression was a mixture of frustration and angst.

"I realize that my record so far hasn't been the best," Gabrielle began angrily. "I mean, lets face it, I even have a creature from another planet getting on my case, but this is important, Xena!"

"I'm sure it is," Xena replied gently.

"Don't," Gabrielle held her hand up, struggling to maintain her composure. "Don't patronize me right now, alright? I don't think I could take it."

Xena smiled. "Okay, no patronizing. But you have to admit, Gabrielle, it does sound a little strange, especially in light of everything else lately."

"Meaning Felix," Gabrielle concluded.

"Partly," Xena nodded. "And what happened to you afterwards, and the whole thing with Allister, plus the battles mixed in through everything. We've all been through a lot. It's not just you."

Gabrielle threw her arms up in disgust and turned away.

"If you told me why this is so important," Xena started.

"I can't!" Gabrielle cried. "I can't say why this is so important to me, or why I feel like we should be running to that place before the sun goes down today. I only know that we don't have much time!"

"Let me ask you something," Xena said. "How do you know that this isn't something being fed by Allister?"

"I don't," Gabrielle admitted. "I don't believe it is though."

"Why?"

Gabrielle paced a few steps. "All the way up to this point, we've all been running like Valkyries in a windstorm, believing this was right, even when that little voice in the back of my mind was screaming the exact opposite to me. You know what I mean?"

Xena nodded.

"This is completely different!" Gabrielle went on. "Everything in my being is screaming that we shouldn't be rushing ahead, but that little voice in the back of my mind is begging me to get going because now is the time. Not before, but right now!"

She looked helplessly at her friend. "I can't explain it any better than that, sorry."

She stopped when she saw the look on Xena's face. It was searching, contemplative, almost self analyzing.

"Xena?"

"Remind me to tell you, later, just how good you are," Xena said and she turned back towards the tent. "Come on."

A couple of hours later, Xena, Gabrielle, Tyrion and the others gathered in the kings tent with Eomer, Argoman, Breggolard, and Denethor.

"Very well," Eomer began. "At present we have mustered a force of nearly seven thousand able bodied men. But for the arrival of Lord Denethor, we would be hard pressed to continue any form of campaign."

Denethor nodded gratefully.

"Now we must decide our next move," Eomer went on.

Eomer opened the floor for comment.

Breggolard was the first to speak. "Of the men who set out with me some weeks past, only a handful remain now who are uninjured. And those men will not be rested before the morrow. My council will be that we have gained a precious window of opportunity to regain our strength. If I would offer any council, it would be for patience. We should use this time to dress our wounds."

Eomer nodded and looked to Argoman.

The second captain nodded. "I agree with my Lord Breggolard, Sire. Now is not the time for rash action."

Eomer turned next to Denethor. "What say the men of Gondor, Lord?"

Denethor seemed thoughtful. "Our men measured speed with the need for strength to fight when we finally found you. To that end, we have pressed ourselves hard and many of my men are in need of rest. I also agree that we should make no further stroke of war until the morrow at least."

Eomer turned to Tyrion. "What would be your council?"

"Yeah," Tyrion sighed. "Well, I guess I'm always going to be the oddball here."

He looked at the other members of his team and then at Korbal. The big hunter nodded his head one time.

"As we stand here, we have about five hours of sunlight left," Tyrion stepped to the table and looked down at the map before him. "Isengard is about four miles to the north. Korbal and I can take our people and be at the gates in about two hours, less if we could borrow some horses?"

"You intend to press on to the gates of Orthanc then?" Eomer raised an eyebrow.

"I do sir." Tyrion nodded. "We can approach quietly and possibly breach the complex before anyone even knows we're there."

"How can you be so certain that you are not walking into a trap, with only a handful?"

Tyrion gave a rueful smile and looked over at Xena and Gabrielle, then at Mavon.

"I trust my people, sir."

Eomer turned his intense eyes on Xena. "And your council, Lady?"

"We need to get to Isengard as quickly as possible, if only to cut off any escape of the people responsible for this." Xena said evenly. "I would ask for two hundred volunteers to help us accomplish this."

Eomer studied each of them carefully for a long moment and then he nodded.

"Breggolard, provide horses for Master Tyrion and his people." He looked at Xena and nodded again. "And issue a call for volunteers to accompany Master Tyrion, under the Lady Xena's command."

"My Lord," Breggolard nodded his head sharply and withdrew.

Eomer looked back at Tyrion and then a Korbal. "How long before you depart?"

"As soon as we have all the gear and people we can get together," Tyrion replied easily. "I say an hour, tops."

"Very well," Eomer nodded. "I have but one request before you depart."

"Sir?"

"I would ask that you take with you, Master Legolas, the elf," Eomer nodded to the blonde haired elf standing near the entrance. "He is brave and faithful, and his knowledge of the nearby entwood would be invaluable to you, I deem. He may find paths to approach Orthanc that are seldom used."

Legolas nodded to Tyrion.

"Well," the stocky dwarf beside him grumbled. "If he's going, then you can count me in as well. I've been to Isengard and I know the lands around her well enough."

At that comment, the elf only offered a patient smile.

It was only when Legolas looked at one of the Kajano that his gaze went hard.

"Is there going to be a problem?" Tyrion asked him evenly as he watched the silent exchange.

"I will always remember the slaughter at Helms Deep," Legolas said, his eyes narrowing for a moment.

Korbal growled in response.

"But can you work with our friends here, now?" Tyrion pressed. "Because if your memory is going to present a problem, you aren't coming."

"You will need me," Legolas replied evenly.

"I'd rather muddle through then have a potential conflict inside my command," Tyrion replied. "So, I will ask you again, Mister Legolas. Is there going to be a problem?"

Legolas turned and looked searchingly into Tyrion's eyes for a long moment.

Again, Gabrielle and Xena were surprised to see the old soldier return the searching gaze unflinchingly.

Finally, Legolas nodded. "There will be no problems, Master Tyrion. You have my word."

"Oh," Gimli said in an amused voice. "Your word is it? I'll tag along and make sure you keep to it, laddie." He looked up at Tyrion and tapped the side of his nose. "Never trust an elf." And then he smiled as Legolas reached back and smacked his thick iron shoulder plate.

The group dispersed to begin making preparations for departure. As they filed out of the tent, Xena slipped up beside Tyrion.

"Is there anyone you can't stare down?" she asked wryly.

Tyrion smiled. "Actually there are two people."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Absolutely," Tyrion stopped outside the tent and turned back to her. "The first one was my mother."

Xena grinned. "And the second?"

Now it was Tyrion's turn to smile. "Is none of your business."

Gabrielle was having trouble packing her equipment. Here eyes kept fixating on the slender, lithe man in front of her. Not out of any physical desire, but out of fascination and simple curiosity.

The one called Legolas simply looked back at her and offered a polite nod before resuming his conversation with his stocky, diminutive friend.

His friend, the one called a dwarf, only rose as tall as her shoulder, fully armored. And by fully armored, she noted that he was covered in thick and intricately fastened metal plates engraved with rich, decorative markings all overlaying a shirt of small, thick rings of steel which rested on a thick padded tunic. His helm was of dull gray steel and also decorated, and his weapons were axes as opposed to swords. Two moderately sized single bladed axes hanging from hoops on his wide leather belt and a third, massive double bladed axe hanging at his back. His hair and beard were long, thick, and a deep almost dark red. Both were braided and his thick long beard reached down past his waist and was tucked into his belt.

At his shoulder he carried a large, (for him), bag of thick leather, in which he presumably kept most of his personal belongings.

His flinty dark eyes also turned to catch her staring at them.

"What are you looking at?" he asked, somewhat gruffly. "Haven't you ever seen a dwarf before, missy?"

She averted her eyes so quickly that she also managed, again, to drop one of the bags she was attempting to fasten to the saddle.

"So much for the fabled courtesy of the dwarves," Legolas remarked with a smile and he stepped forward and lifted the bag, holding it in place as Gabrielle nervously tied the errant article down.

Then she looked again at the face of the being before her.

His features were handsome and smooth, with pale skin and hair so blonde that it seemed to be woven of spun gold. His features were youthful and Gabrielle, at first, thought he was perhaps several years younger than she. Then she had looked into those piercing blue eyes and seen ages of wisdom and experience hidden there.

In spite of all of these things, she kept looking at his ears. They were like hers, for the most part, with the exception of being pointed at the top instead of rounded like everyone else's.

"Um," she stammered. She pointed a finger to his ear and then hers. "Did you do that to your ears on purpose?" she asked.

He frowned. "Pardon?"

She was suddenly a little uneasy about her line of questions. "Your ears. Were you born like that?"

Instead of being offended by her question, Legolas smiled a perfectly understanding, good natured smile.

"I am as I was brought into being," he nodded. "You have never seen my kind before?"

She shook her head.

Legolas sighed. "My kindred left these lands some twenty years past, it is rare that any of your people would encounter my kindred nowadays."

"Oh, Xena and I aren't from these lands," Gabrielle offered.

At that statement, the elf frowned again. "Then, from where do you hail, lady?"

Gabrielle offered a small shrug. "A long way from here."

"We have some miles ahead of us then," he offered amicably. "You can tell me of your lands and your people, if you wish?"

They departed the camp, Tyrion, Xena and their friends accompanied by the elf, Legolas, the dwarf, Gimli, and a mere one hundred riders of Rohan.

As they rode through the deepening woods, Gabrielle and Legolas remained in constant, albeit hushed conversation. Occasionally the elf's keen eyes would catch the subtle shift of movement that indicated the Kajano moving on either side of them, in guard positions, concealed by their technology.

The air was filled with the echoes of horses' hooves. The scent of earth and timber drifted around them like a soft perfume.

"The trees slumber," Legolas said suddenly, in a voice that seemed to indicate a reluctance to speak, as if he feared he might awaken something. "They sleep and dream of the elder days, of wood and fen."

Gabrielle chuckled at that. "You make it sound as if they are alive."

"They are," Legolas replied in a matter of fact tone.

"I know that," Gabrielle said. "I mean, you make it sound like they're living, thinking creatures."

Legolas frowned for a moment, and then he smiled. "But they are, My Lady. They have been since the world was shaped. They stand and think, and watch, and dream. If you stop and listen, sometimes, you can hear them whispering ancient tales to each other."

Gabrielle's mirth vanished into something more thoughtful.

"Believe me, or not," Legolas shrugged. "Yet, should we be fortunate, we may meet Fanghorn himself, if his wanderings bring him nigh of Orthanc. It was his wont to wander in these places long before the wizards came to Isengard, and I believe it is in these places that he wanders still."

"Fanghorn?" Gabrielle frowned. "What is he, a hermit or something?"

"Good Lord," Gimli grumbled. "Where have you been hiding, girl?"

Gabrielle felt uneasy under the dwarf's flint gaze. And his tone seemed to be uniformly hostile, so unlike the soft, and gentle spoken elf.

"Never seen and elf, or a dwarf for that matter, never heard the tales of the Entwood, or Orthanc!"

"Whereas you are expert on all those things, I assume, my friend?" Legolas replied.

"I could find my way to any place you might name," Gimli boasted. "And I could do it with my eyes shut, I could!"

"You could?" a perky voice repeated from just behind and to the side of Gabrielle. She turned and found Nicolla trotting up beside her. "Any place?"

"Any place you name!" Gimli repeated proudly.

"Okay," Nicolla smiled. "Then perhaps you can help me out here. I'm looking for a place about a hundred light years in that direction," she pointed her finger straight up. "Big place. You can't miss it. It's called Tantarus Drift. Any thoughts?"

"Well, I," Gimli huffed. "I suppose it would be, I mean, it's somewhere around,"

"You were saying, my friend?" Legolas smiled.

The dwarf grumbled for a few more moments and then fell silent.

"Well?" Legolas pressed.

"It's hardly a fair question!" The dwarf blurted. "How am I to understand the lands they come from? Half the names they say hold no meaning, and the other half sounds like parts for mining wagons! Whoever heard of a realm called grease? Grease is what we put on wagon axles! It's not a place to dwell that I've ever heard of!"

"Then this should caution you against prideful boasting, should it not?" Legolas grinned more broadly.

Gabrielle's own smile broadened and she looked hopefully at Nicolla.

"How you doing Gabs?" Nicolla grinned and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

In that simple, friendly contact, Gabrielle instantly knew that any and all recent indiscretions had been forgiven and she exhaled long and slow in relief.

"Better now," she nodded. "Thanks."

Xena trotted forward coming to stop next to the wagon they were loading.

"Almost ready?" She asked with a hint of impatience.

"Just about," Nicolla nodded. Then her eyes turned towards the sight of Mavon moving forward in the group to join Tyrion and Silas. Beside him, his armored head inclined as if listening, Thegar strode next to him.

In his hands, Mavon carried a finely crafted stringed instrument, with a wide flat end and a long slender neck. It was strung with metallic strings and he was holding it casually in one hand.

Gabrielle noted the various technological additions to the main flat piece that made up the base. She didn't know what the device was, or how it worked, but she knew a musical instrument when she saw one.

"…no way man," Mavon's voice faded into hearing. "You can't tell me you never heard of music? If you and I are gonna be working together, we gotta get you some culture."

"It is meaningless," Thegar grated.

Mavon stopped short. "You have got to be shitting me!"

He looked at Gabrielle and Xena. "Man, I call you guys primitive."

Thegar kept moving through the throng of soldiers always under the icy gaze of Legolas.

Mavon blinked away his surprise and went after him. "Hey, Thug! We gotta talk about this 'no music' shit!"

"What was that?" Gabrielle asked, indicating the instrument.

Nicolla didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed forward, but focused inward as she stared at the back of Legolas's head.

"Who was Melkor?" Nicolla finally asked in a soft, hoarse whisper.

Legolas blinked in surprise and turned back to look at Nicolla.

"Nicky?" Xena asked, looking back and forth at the young telepath and the elf.

Nicky inhaled deeply as if she suddenly realized that she had not been breathing.

"Sorry," she rubbed her head and breathed again. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, but when Thegar and Mavon walked by, that name just exploded from you." She looked at Legolas.

"Are you alright?" Gabrielle asked.

"She has glimpsed the shadow of an ancient evil from the Elder Days," Legolas nodded. His expression became soft and he smiled. "Forgive me, Lady. My thoughts were unshielded. I did not know you were a seer."

"Seer?" Xena asked.

Legolas nodded. "She can hear all voices, the ones within and without. It is rare that one of your people has such a gift."

"So," Xena asked. "Who was this Melkor, and what does he have to do with our friends?"

Legolas's smile lost some of its shine as he looked back in the general direction of Thegar. It seemed that the sight of him helped rekindle some ancient memories.

"Melkor was one of the Ai, the master of Sauron before he became great. He was the first to spawn creatures of evil in middle earth. It was from his black heart that the first Orcs and trolls were spawned. And his servant, Sauron carried the practice, breeding creatures of unimaginable darkness in his fastness of Barad-Dur and Dol-Guldor. When I look upon them," he nodded towards Thegar and Agran, now standing next to Tyrion and Silas. "I remember the black horrors of the ancient world."

"Remember?" Xena said. "You speak as if you were there?"

Legolas turned to look at them again and there was haunted age and wisdom in his crystal blue eyes. "I marched with Gil-Galad and Isuldur against the walls of Orodruin at the end of the second age of mankind, and I saw him fall, only to rise again centuries later." His eyes were filled with remembered sadness. "I remember the elder days, when the hunters of Sauron would come in the night and take many of us to the slave pits in the north. And later, though we were better prepared, Sauron continued the practice, imprisoning my kindred in his evil ambition to create his dark armies. Many of my kindred live only in my memory, lost in the gatherings of the past."

"Agran, Thegar, and his people had nothing to do with any of that, Legolas," Xena said carefully.

"But they did sack the fastness of Helms Deep," Legolas countered.

"And they have paid for that mistake," Gabrielle offered. "They've helped us."

"Legolas," Nicolla asked carefully. "Just how old are you?"

At that, the elf's expression softened to something more wistful and he merely smiled.

"Saddle up!" Silas's loud voice boomed. "Let's get this show on the road!"

The column of two hundred men slowly formed up as they began moving towards the river and the road to Orthanc.

The subject was effectively dropped as they column wound its way through the trees.

Those with the sharpest wits or eyes would occasionally see several shadowy figures just beyond the edge of the trees, moving along with them. The concealed Kajano were among them, protecting their flanks.

As the hour passed, the four pronged spire of Orthanc rose into view.

As they climbed a shallow rise, Tyrion and Korbal held a quick exchange.

"What's going on up there?" Gabrielle asked, looking down the column at the big alien and the soldier conversing.

Nicolla shrugged.

Korbal turned his armored head tone side and then the other, though they were too far back to hear any noise.

Suddenly the remainder of the Kajano emerged from various points along the column and gathered at the front of the line.

"Something's happening," Gabrielle commented.

"I'll be right back," Xena spurred her horse towards the front of the column. Before she got half way there, the ten creatures jogged forward and vanished.

Xena reigned to a stop, looking at Tyrion.

"What was that about?" she asked.

"They just went ahead to open the front door for us," Tyrion smiled. "That's all. If they run into more than we expect, one of them will come back and warn us."

The Kajano did not send back any news, and when the column made the final crest of a hill they looked down at the circular fortress of Isengard and saw the front gates blasted open.

"Well," Tyrion commented as he noted the thin wisps of black smoke rising from various points. "That looks inviting."

Xena reined her horse next to Tyrion and studied the scene. "Very inviting." She agreed. "Maybe too inviting?"

Tyrion's wry smile crept across his face. "Wanna hit them hard?"

He looked over and saw the eager light in Xena's eyes. "Just in case."

"Fine by me." Tyrion nodded. He raised his hands and made several sharp gestures, indicating that the members of Old Number Seven should insinuate themselves among the charge and make directly for the tower in the center of the compound.

"What's going on?" Gabrielle asked as she watched Tyrion's signal.

Nicolla was signaling back in acknowledgement. Then she sat back down in the driver seat of the wagon.

"Looks like we're going to charge in," She nodded. "And Tyrion wants you up front."

Obediently, Gabrielle unhitched her horse from the back of the wagon and galloped towards the front.

"What can I do?" She asked.

Xena smiled. "Stay with me on this one, okay?"

Gabrielle reached down and drew out the bundle of steel hanging at her hip. The pole arm extended and she twirled it expectantly.

"Not anxious to break that thing in, are you?" Tyrion offered.

Gabrielle said nothing, her eyes studying the scene below.

Xena wheeled her mount and faced the column.

"Draw your swords!" She cried out.

The air echoed with the countless singing voices of steel.

"Single column!" Xena ordered. "Split once we're inside and take the fortress!"

She raised her weapon to the sky, wheeled her steed, and with a cry, led the charge down the hill and through the smoldering gates of Isengard.

Nothing impeded their advance. As ordered, the column split once within the wall and began circling the interior, searching for targets.

The only exceptions were the members of Tyrion's team who rode down the main path and came to a stop at the foot of the steps that led to the doors of Orthanc.

Tyrion signaled for weapons, and each of them drew their MP-9's as they darted to either side of the doors.

The doors of Orthanc were massive, standing over ten feet tall and covered in thick, black iron bands over a dark metallic substance that they could not identify.

"What do you think, Si?" Tyrion asked, running his hand over the strange material.

Silas shook his head. "No Idea boss. Don't look like any construction I ever seen before. Almost a combo between what we saw before and this place's tech."

"But can you blow it?" Mavon asked impatiently.

The supply wagon clattered to a stop and Nicolla jumped tot eh ground, rifle in hand.

She slid up next to Tyrion, opposite Mavon and Silas.

"What kept you?" Tyrion asked.

"Traffic was a bitch," Nicolla smiled. "Can we get in?"

"Don't know," Tyrion looked the doors up and down.

"The doors themselves are too big to blow," Silas said. His eyes fell on the crude locking mechanism incorporated in one of the panels. "Mave, can you break down that satchel and give me a couple of focused latch blasters?"

Mavon stepped around and studied the primitive mechanisms holding the doors in place. He frowned as his eyes wandered.

"If I didn't know better, I would swear this was an airlock hatch." He commented.

"Can you drill the locks with a focused pop?" Silas asked impatiently.

Mavon studied the steel panel again and nodded.

"Two minutes," he replied and he stepped back, dropping the explosives satchel to the ground and peeling it open.

The demolitions satchel was a standard explosive device, compact but powerful enough to incinerate most standard structures. It contained basic components. A duel circuit timed fuse ran into four independent cells of pale orange gel-cap explosive material. Each cell was about the width and length of his forearm.

He disconnected and drew out two of the soft cells and began rolling them into fist sized balls. Then he drew out one of the focusing plates from the base of the bag.

"We don't want to be right next to these when they go, by the way," Mavon said as he pushed the two detonator feeds into the two soft masses of material. He knelt before the lock plates and mashed the two balls of explosive on either plate and then he pressed the focusing plate against the material where it stuck in place.

He pulled the detonator out and let it hang loose.

"The focusing plate is going to backfire that way," he pointed back to the main path they had just come down. "But the majority of the energy should pound the locks…if not, I can always make another one."

He looked down at the wired plates. "And if this door can survive two of these, then we don't deserve to go inside."

"What do we need?" Tyrion asked.

"Minimum fifteen feet from the blast," Mavon calculated. He pointed to either side of the curving wall. "We hug the wall at fifteen feet or so, and that should shield us from the concussion."

"Let's do it," Tyrion nodded. "Fall back. Mave, give me the high sign when you're gonna trip it."

Mavon nodded and waited for them to get far enough away.

Tyrion gave him thumbs up, and Mavon nodded.

"Fire in the hole!" Mavon called and he hit the fuse.

Xena and Gabrielle emerged from one of the nearby outer barracks. They had found several survivors holed up within, and the small band of Orcs had fought with desperate ferocity.

"I don't get it," Gabrielle said with a huff. "Where are they?"

Xena's keen eyes scanned the surrounding trees. Since they arrived within the walls of Orthanc, no one had seen the Kajano. It was as if they had simply vanished.

"Did they even come here?" Gabrielle went on.

"I don't know," Xena replied. "But it definitely gives me a bad feeling."

"_Gabrielle,"_ the voice seemed to whisper in her ear so that she turned towards the voice.

"Did you hear that?" she asked.

Xena looked in the direction her friend was gazing and shook her head. "I didn't hear anything."

"Someone said my name," Gabrielle said. "I could swear I heard someone whisper my name."

"Gabrielle," Xena said carefully. "I didn't hear anything."

"I swear I heard it," Gabrielle continued. "It sounded just like," she stopped suddenly.

"Sounded like what?" Xena asked.

"Never mind," Gabrielle sighed. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Xena turned her around. "Try me."

"Remember I was telling you about that little voice in the back of my head?" Gabrielle explained. "The one that was screaming at us to slow down when we were moving so quickly?"

Xena nodded. "I remember. Now it's telling you we should hurry."

"It's Felix," Gabrielle blurted. "Or, at least, its sounds like Felix."

Xena's eyebrow rose. "Felix?"

"See?" Gabrielle sighed. "I knew you wouldn't understand!"

"I didn't say anything," Xena protested.

Suddenly, the loud crack of an explosion echoed through the valley and they both saw smoke burst from near the tower.

"I heard that," Xena said.

"Yeah," Gabrielle nodded.

"You men!" Xena barked to a group of soldiers nearby. "With me!"

A group of about twenty jogged towards her.

"Come on," Xena patted Gabrielle on the shoulder.

As they neared the tower, they saw Tyrion's group clustered near the front doors. Mavon was scratching his head.

"What happened?" Gabrielle asked breathlessly.

Nicolla smiled. "Mavon fucked up."

"I did not!" Mavon shot back with a glare. He looked back down at the blackened panel before him. "That's one hell of a door."

"Well," Tyrion shrugged. "Hit it again."

"Wait a sec," Mavon held up his hand as he looked at the door. "Let me think."

"I thought you were a pro," Silas muttered.

"I am!" Mavon countered. "When it comes to booby traps and nasty surprises! I ain't no damn locksmith!"

As soon as he said the word, he groaned. "And I'm a part time nitchba."

Gabrielle frowned.

"Idiot," Nicolla translated.

"Okay," Mavon said. "If the concussion won't bust it loose, we'll have to use its durability against itself."

"Say that again?" Nicolla asked.

Mavon drew another blast cell from the partially dismantled satchel. Instead of utilizing the entire mass, he simply tore a small chunk off the end and began rolling it into a long, thin line.

"What makes you think that little bit will do anything?" Silas asked.

"Ever hold a popper in your hand and set it off?" Mavon asked.

"Never heard of a popper," Xena put in.

Mavon finished his work and held up the long, thin strand of explosives.

"A popper is a small decorative explosive, they come in all kinds of fun colors." Mavon explained. "My point is this; if you put one in your hand and set it off, you'll burn your hand."

"Okay?" Xena nodded.

"You close your fingers around that same popper and set it off," Mavon grinned. "And you'll never two fist drinks again."

He stepped up to the blackened panel and began gently packing the explosive within the lock, behind the panel. He took several minutes to do this, making sure to push all of the material into the lock so that only the smallest amount was exposed in the keyhole.

"Okay folks," Mavon drew his sidearm. "I'm going to set this one off the old fashioned way, so, you may want to stand back."

Under dubious looks from the assembled men, Mavon was left standing alone. He strode back and off to one side from the doorway, stopping when he was about thirty paces distant. Then he dropped to one knee and took aim.

"Okay folks," he said. "All clear?"

"Silas and me on point," Tyrion ordered. "The rest follow us in after the all clear." He turned back towards Mavon. "You're clear!"

"Fire in the hole!" Mavon called again and he squeezed the trigger.

The shot exploded, the panel seemed to bubble out for a fraction of a second and then it blew outwards with a loud crack that echoed across the valley.

The two massive doors swung slightly outward. Where the panel used to be was a black, smoking hole.

"Two by two," Tyrion ordered. "Secure first room only!"

Mavon jumped up next to Silas as he reached out and pulled the door open.

Tyrion and Nicolla went in, weapons raised.

Silas and Mavon followed seconds later.

"_Gabrielle,"_ The voice whispered again. _"You have to hurry!"_

Gabrielle darted forward and vanished into the tower.

"Gabrielle!" Xena called. With a growl, she looked back at the men waiting. "Follow me."

The entrance hall was a large circular vault nearly three stories tall, with three doorways leading out.

"Nicky, check nine, Mavon, check three!" Tyrion ordered as he and Silas moved to the central doorway.

Tyrion and Silas passed through a second set of double doors and into a central chamber that had been arranged as an audience chamber. Again, three more doors opened up to unexplored chambers or passages.

Against one dark wall was a raised dais upon which rested an ornate black stone seat, ornately graven in varying hues of silver and gold.

Silas let a low whistle escape his lips.

"Yeah," Tyrion nodded.

"Nice digs," Silas commented as he stepped to the doorways, one after another and did a quick check. "Wonder where I can get one?"

"The Geiasians," Tyrion replied.

Silas's head snapped around. "What?"

"Look at the place," Tyrion nodded to the wall. "Look at the layout and think about it."

Silas let his eyes study the room.

"There've been changes made over, who knows how long, but just look at it." Tyrion went on. He reached into one of the pockets and drew out a small, circular tag that he affixed to the front of his vest. As soon as he tapped the small switch on the tag, the object began to make slow popping sounds.

"Residual rads from the reentry engines," Tyrion said.

"Sweet Mother," Silas whispered.

"This is an old Geiasian Seeding vessel," Tyrion nodded. "Felix was right. This place sits in the center of the impact crater it made when it landed."

He stepped to another door and opened it, revealing a small private study. "Granted, once it landed, it was probably active for a while, monitoring the development of life on the planet, hell, might have even been a sort of field laboratory for those cocky bastards."

"Field Lab?" Silas asked.

"Yeah," Tyrion nodded. "Remember the debrief of Taldon?"

"Ah come on," Silas smiled as he moved. "You know that doc was nothing but a big old propaganda stunt."

"I sat in on that debrief," Tyrion said quietly. "I actually met Taldon."

"Bullshit!" Silas blurted.

Tyrion smiled. "Why do you think I got the command for the raid in Arostra? Taldon gave me the layouts, specs – as far as we could understand them – and best routes in and out."

Tyrion nodded towards the entrance and the two withdrew.

When they returned to the entry chamber, they found Mavon and Nicolla still watching their assigned doorways.

They also found Xena and Gabrielle waiting for them. Just outside the door, the men that had followed them waited anxiously.

Tyrion smiled. "Okay. Since we're all so anxious to go, Silas, Mavon, Xena and Company, follow us. Nicky, keep that doorway secure, the rest with me. This outer ring circumvents the base with store rooms and access stairs at regular intervals."

He nodded to Xena. "You and the three of us will clear each chamber, then two of your men stand guard to make sure nothing doubles back on us. Clear?"

"What about me?" Gabrielle asked.

"Cover our tails," Tyrion replied. "Make sure the guards set up right to watch our backs."

Gabrielle nodded, but the disappointment was plainly visible in her expression.

Xena gave her a nod of encouragement and then faced the door.

"Single column, two men at each doorway, keep moving!"

She saw the men nod.

Tyrion looked at Mavon and Silas and smiled, raising his MP-9 to ready.

"Okay boys," he pointed his weapon towards the slightly open door before him. "Just like Cyerna. Two men into a room, single covers stairways. Ready?"

Both men raised their weapons. Xena heard three clicks as the rifles were armed.

Mavon stepped to the door and grasped the handle.

Tyrion nodded once and the door was pulled open. Tyrion and Silas went in first, weapons panning the long dark corridor before them. Mavon followed, with his weapon pointed at the ground before him.

They kept moving from there on, alternating positions as they went through several small chambers and stair wells. The first person in line would cover a stairway or doorway, while the following two would duck into the rooms, clear them and reemerge, with pairs of soldiers taking up positions at the safe rooms.

The corridor itself curved gently within the wall of the tower, running a simple, circular course back to where Nicolla waited on watch. The chambers opened up every one hundred feet, or so, and there seemed to be four separate stairwells.

They were nearly half way around the interior of the tower before they encountered anything.

It was Tyrion and Silas's turn to clear the room. Mavon stopped and knelt at the edge of the second stairwell. Tyrion and Silas moved past, watching as two of Xena's men dutifully took position on either side of the stairwell.

Mavon quick walked to join the others as Tyrion and Silas vanished through yet another door.

Suddenly, there was a mingling of harsh cries and bellows. They heard the staccato pop of quick shots and the muzzle flashed in the dim light before the doorway was flung open. A single figure sprinted into the corridor and darted away.

Mavon fired two quick shots and sprinted in pursuit.

"We got a runner!" he called. Behind him, he heard Tyrion and Silas charging after him in pursuit.

Gabrielle didn't stop to think. She simply turned and sprinted back towards the entrance as fast as her feet could carry her.

Xena was momentarily torn between running after prey and chasing after her friend.

"Secure the rest of this hall," she ordered her remaining men quickly and she darted after Gabrielle.

Nicolla heard the approaching noise coming from the corridor before her. She moved to the edge of the entrance and knelt down, pointing her rifle down the hall.

Then she heard Mavon's voice in the distance.

"One incoming!"

She didn't respond, didn't reveal her position. Her finger slid the fire selector switch to SEMI and then let it rest gently on the trigger.

A single figure came charging into sight.

She sighted the lone shadow.

"Stand fast!" she ordered in a clear voice.

The man's features were contorted in an expression of frenzied panic. His eyes were wide and fierce, filled with furious light. Waves of rage washed through Nicolla's mind.

He drew a sword and continued his reckless charge.

Nicolla sighted his leg and squeezed the trigger.

There was a soft pop and then, nothing.

The silver of the steel flashed in the shadows. The man's eyes lit up with delight as he raised his weapon, a hoarse cry burst from his lips.

Nicolla raised her rifle to deflect the incoming slash.

There was an electric crackle, a flash, and the sound of steel on steel, and then several more hits ending with a loud WHAP and a sharp crack.

Nicolla looked up to see Gabrielle before her, the alien pole arm gripped in her hands.

The fleeing man bounced against the far wall and crumpled to the floor, stunned by the energy surge in Gabrielle's weapon.

Gabrielle stepped over to the man, the end of her staff leveled at his nose, her eyes were like frozen seawater.

"Gabs?" Nicolla picked herself off the floor and stared at the young bard in shock.

Mavon, Tyrion, and Silas came charging around the corner and skidded to a halt when they saw Gabrielle standing over the fallen man.

"Nice work, Lil Bit," Silas grinned.

"Where are they?" Gabrielle all but growled.

The stranger stared into her eyes, and a cruel smile began to spread across his features.

Gabrielle stabbed the staff down at the stones next to his head. The energy cracked and he flinched. Her entire body was shaking with dangerously explosive emotion.

"Where are they?" she screamed at him. Her eyes were welling up, but it wasn't from sorrow. The raw fury was tangible to everyone in the room. Silas's smile melted away when he saw the young bard's expression.

"Where's who?" Mavon asked quietly. "The Kaj?"

"Ease off Gabs," Tyrion said gently.

"I don't think this has anything to do with the Kajano," Silas whispered.

Gabrielle's fingers manipulated the controls on her weapon, and the triple blades sprouted from the ends.

"I won't ask you again," She hissed.

"Gabrielle," Xena said gently as she stepped around Nicolla and held out her hand. "Slow down."

"We don't have time for this!" Gabrielle shot back. "I can hear him! I can hear him in my head, crying for me to hurry! We're so close!"

She looked up at Nicolla.

She read Gabrielle's expression and reached out with her mind. Instantly, she could hear Felix's voice. There was no emotion in that message, only a simple wish for assistance. The emotion was Gabrielle's and Gabrielle's alone.

"She's serious!" Nicolla gasped.

Gabrielle felt Xena's fingers gently curl over her own. "Take it easy, Gabrielle," her voice said softly. "You don't need to do this."

"His voice is fading," Gabrielle replied. "We need to know and we need to know right now!"

Nicolla stood up and stared at the man.

"Chras," she said softly. The man's eyes darted to her.

"Nicky?" Tyrion asked.

"Give me ten seconds," Nicolla said confidently. "Stand him up."

Tyrion and Silas stepped up and hoisted the prisoner to his feet, while Xena gently pulled Gabrielle away.

The staff retracted, though the ice in Gabrielle's eyes did not melt.

Then a new set of eyes interposed itself between Chras and the infuriated bard. These were green as well, but more like fiery emeralds.

"At tip, junior," Silas whispered in his ear. "Don't fight it."

Nicolla's hands clamped on either side of the mans face and her eyes drilled through his into his mind.

The man held her gaze out of defiance for a few moments, and then he seemed to be attempting to look away as Nicolla's gaze bored deeper and deeper into his very soul.

Sweat appeared on his forehead and his body began to tremble as he struggled.

"Yeah," Nicolla actually let a small smile appear on her lips. "Fight it, please."

The fight lasted a mere few seconds before the man cried out in agony as Nicolla broke through his feeble barrier and extracted the information she wanted.

"Night, night," Nicolla cooed and the prisoner went limp.

"In the private study, there's a hidden entrance to the lower levels behind the book shelf." She reported.

"Si?" Tyrion looked at the big man.

"Go," He nodded. "I'll truss this fucker up. He ain't going nowhere."

Tyrion, Xena, Mavon, Gabrielle, and Nicolla jogged through the central chamber and into the small, finely appointed study.

Nicolla took a moment to take it in before her eyes settle don one of the bookshelves against the wall.

"There," she nodded.

Tyrion fired several shots into the bookshelves until it creaked and slid open a few inches.

"Go!" Tyrion ordered.

Mavon and Nicolla stepped up and pulled the broken furniture aside, revealing a dark opening with roughly hewn steps leading into the bowels of the earth.

"Lights," Tyrion said, switching the glow lamp at the end of his rifle on.

Three brilliant beams of light invaded the shadows, exposing the narrow corridor descending into the foundations.

"Two by two, Mave with me, Gabs with Nicky, Xena, watch our asses," Tyrion continued. He and Mavon moved into the shadows and vanished. Nicolla waited a count of five and then she and Gabrielle went in, followed immediately by Xena who had no intention of waiting even a second for the two girls to get out of sight.

Silas finished tying up the prisoner, seating him on the throne. He remained motionless, and the big soldier surmised that Nicky had not only extracted what she needed, but also had rendered him unconscious for the time being.

"You have a prisoner, I see," A voice said from behind him.

Silas wheeled around, his weapon snapping up. Legolas stood there with a curious expression on his face as he studied the unconscious form.

"Dammit boy!" Silas blurted. "You almost got your ass blasted! Don't ever sneak up on me like that again!"

There was the sound of harsh protests from outside, and then Gimli, along with several other men entered, half guiding, half dragging another form bound in chains and babbling incoherently.

"Found him in a cell in one of the barracks," the dwarf reported. "He's raging like a madman, but he's not speaking any language that I've heard before."

Silas stepped over to the dirty figure. The man looked at him with wild eyes, paused in his inane babble for a brief moment and then resumed, focusing on Silas now, and looking at him in sheer terror.

Silas frowned as he tried to make sense of what he was hearing. When he could discern nothing after a long moment, his fist jabbed up into the man's face and he went limp.

"Thank you," Gimli sighed.

Silas looked at the two soldiers holding the man. "Grounds secure?"

"Yes, My Lord," One of them nodded. "We found only this one, as Master Gimli reported."

"Alright," Silas nodded. "Get him bound and we'll hold him here. I want six men in here watching the prisoners at all times."

"Yes, My Lord," the soldier nodded.

Silas forced a smile down. "Secure the walls and get another contingent of men to search the rest of the tower, floor by floor, chamber by chamber. Make sure there ain't shit left in this place, understood?"

The soldier frowned in slight confusion at his reference, but he understood the general idea. "Very well, My Lord."

One of the guards began binding the second prisoner while the other withdrew to see to Silas's orders.

Silas looked back at Legolas and Gimli.

"Where are the rest of your companions?" Legolas asked.

"This way," Silas replied, moving towards the study.

"My Lord," he whispered under his breath and his chuckle echoed in the vast chamber like a distant roll of thunder.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The air was dank and filled with stale moisture that seemed to fill their mouths with a bitter sensation.

Thick cobwebs hung in pale, diaphanous sheets across the tunnel. Their silken strands tickled their flesh as Tyrion passed through them leaving tendrils hanging to torment the others as they followed.

"This is a nice fucking place," Mavon commented quietly.

They emerged in a large circular chamber, lined with shelves. Tyrion and Mavon split easily, covering opposite sides of the room on their sweep. A dark, secondary passage opened up on the right side of the room, and the air was filled with a new musty odor.

Nicolla and Gabrielle followed, with Nicolla following Mavon to cover the side passage while Tyrion finished his circuit of the room.

Gabrielle and Xena entered and paused near the center of the room, their eyes scanning the myriad of tomes resting in the shelves.

Normally, Gabrielle would have been completely awestruck by the sight of so much accumulated knowledge, however, this time she had more on her mind. As soon as she spied the second egress, she immediately headed towards it.

"Easy Gabs," Nicolla grasped her arm. "Let us go first."

Mavon looked back towards Tyrion, who simply nodded his head once and gestured for Nicolla and Mavon to proceed. The two slipped into the shadows, descending further down.

Xena saw this and frowned.

"You're letting Mavon and Nicolla pair up?" She asked Tyrion as they followed.

"Why wouldn't I?" He asked.

Xena caught his arm before they entered the second passage. "Isn't that dangerous?"

Tyrion offered a slight smile. "Only for Mavon, I expect."

"I thought you couldn't do that?" Xena pressed.

"Do what?" Tyrion looked down the passage to the fading lights of their companions.

"I thought you were paired up to a specific person, because you work best with them. You know, you and Silas, Mavon and Felix," Xena explained. "You work best with that other person."

"Who fed you that load of crap?" Tyrion asked. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard."

Tyrion edged into the shadows and moved after the others.

Xena simply stood there, suddenly feeling more than a little foolish. The sensation bordered on insult and she didn't like it. At the same time, the pragmatic side of her understood why Mavon had said what he said.

"Fast talking little weasel," She growled. When this little reconnoiter was over, she was going to have a little chat with the duplicitous Mavon.

"Uh, Tyrion?" Nicolla's voice echoed from below. "You might want to see this!"

They emerged onto a large flat outcropping, almost like a natural balcony. Far below and ahead of them, the flickering red light of a flare illuminated the vast underground cavern.

The smell of old decay was rank about the place along with a damp burnt odor from fires long cold.

"Sweet Mother," Tyrion managed to gasp.

Mavon flipped the flare gun shut and aimed for another portion of the room. The gun popped and the brilliant red illumination shattered the darkness around them revealing row upon row of dark, muddied pits. Beyond them they could see the remains of forges, old and rusted piles of discarded weapons lay in heaps along the walls.

Off to their left, a rickety rough set of stairs descended into the pit.

Tyrion considered them for a moment and shook his head.

"Don't even want to chance my weight on that," he commented. Unlike the others, his gaze was filled with recognition, not disgust.

"What the fuck is this place?" Mavon asked aloud.

"Cloning chamber," Tyrion replied. "Very old, very run down, and very over used cloning chamber."

"These are the Orc Pits of Orthanc," A soft voice said behind them.

They all whirled about to see the elf, Legolas, his short dwarf friend, Gimli, and Silas stepping out from the shadows.

To the others, it seemed that the very act of walking on this particular ground caused the young elf pain.

"That explains the smell," Gimli grumbled.

Legolas suddenly turned his eyes back towards the ceiling. "What is that?"

"What's what?" Silas replied. "I don't hear anything."

"The tower is changing," Legolas whispered. "Almost as if it were going to sleep. The stone is no longer speaking to me."

"Speaking?" Xena asked.

"This place is filled with dark memories," Legolas said mysteriously.

Both Tyrion and Silas noted immediately that the elf's attention was focused upward.

"Son of a bitch," Tyrion suddenly sighed. He and Silas both bolted back up the passage towards the interior of the tower proper.

"Hey!" Gabrielle called after them.

"Where you guys going?" Mavon called at the same time.

"Come on!" Xena ordered after a few moments.

Tyrion and Silas skidded to a halt in the main chamber.

"You in my head, Si?" Tyrion asked.

"All the way, baby," he answered, his eyes scanning the room before he jogged through one of the doorways. "Access stair, right here!"

"Go!"

The two sprinted up the narrow steps, bypassing several levels.

"Med Chamber, Med Chamber," Silas was muttering.

"L-3, port side!" Tyrion blurted.

The pair turned right and sprinted down a short corridor to a secured door.

"Shit!" Tyrion bellowed.

Silas dropped his pack and began rummaging around in it desperately.

"One sec, one sec," he drew out a small portion of the explosive they had used to break into the tower.

Silas scanned the surface of the door and then rammed the gooey substance into a small crevice or slot off to one side.

"Back! Back!" he waved as he and Tyrion retreated into the rest of the party.

"Tyrion, what's going?" Gabrielle began.

"Now!" Tyrion ordered.

Silas turned and fired a single shot into the door. The explosive blasted the obstacle free of its hinges.

Everyone who was unprepared winced in surprise and covered their ears reflexively.

"Go! Go! Go!" Tyrion practically shoved Silas ahead of him.

The big man heaved the loose door aside and they all charged into the next chamber.

The room covered the entire girth of the tower, and rose to an impressive height with catwalks, three levels high. In the center of the room was a faintly glowing altar, or console. Jagged crystalline structures protruded from the base, like a sharp, unearthly flower arrangement.

The soft sound of cracking glass echoed in the chamber.

Silas was manipulating some of the crystalline protrusions while Tyrion was busy attempting to force a panel open on the far wall.

Along the catwalks was row after row of openings, like niches, each big enough to snugly fit a man sized occupant. Most of the openings were dark, and empty. On the second tier, they noted that three of the niches were covered over by a semi opaque substance, almost like glass. The light behind them was pinkish and dim.

The walls and floors of the chamber were different from the rest of the tower, smooth and almost metallic in texture.

"Keep that power from dropping any further!" Tyrion blurted.

"What the hell you think I'm doing?" Silas blurted back.

Nicolla stepped around Gabrielle and looked at the strange console. Suddenly, she clapped her hands on either side of her head and wailed in agony as she fell to her knees.

"Xena!" Tyrion roared. He fired two quick shots into the wall and a large panel fell free, shattering like glass on the smooth metallic floor. "Get Nicky out of here!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Mavon cried.

Tyrion was busy, his arms reaching into the wall up to his elbows. "Come on you bitch," he strained.

He looked back at the others. "Check those three pods out!"

"Pods?" Gabrielle blurted back, confused. "What are pods?"

"On the second level!" Tyrion shot back. He drew his hands out sharply. His expression was one that blended horror and incredulity.

"What the?" He looked back at Silas.

The crystals on the strange altar were completely dark.

Silas kicked the stone pedestal angrily. "Toast!"

Even as he made the announcement, the central console and the crystals imbedded within it darkened further and changed to the dark stone of the tower. The change spread, like a virus across the floor and began working its way up the walls of the chamber. The air was filled with the soft crunching of stone.

"Move it!" Tyrion bellowed.

The change continued moving up along the first tier of the chamber, the niches reverting to dark cold stone, with no hints of the technology that had been present mere moments before.

Gimli and Xena reached the first pod and peered inside. The shape within was vaguely outlined. Their hands and eyes scanned the edge of the semi clear surface, seeking some opening, or latch.

"Whoever is in there has long since drowned," Gimli stated as he inspected the stone. "If I could find a latch, we would only be recovering a corpse."

"Keep looking!" Xena snapped.

Even as she said it, the metamorphosis reached their pod, and the pinkish liquid began to darken. The figure within thrashed violently and went still as the crystallization of the material filled the space. In the end there was only another dark stone niche in the wall.

"Horrible," Gimli muttered.

Legolas pounded on his pod desperately, trying to smash through the covering and reach the person entrapped within. After witnessing the first pods transformation, he was desperate to stave off the inevitable entombment. He cried out in fury as his hands bounced off the smooth surface.

Gabrielle and Mavon skidded to a stop before the last pod and began wrestling with the covering. Inside, they could make out the motion of the figure, struggling against some form of restraint. The creeping change came closer with every moment.

"Fuck it!" Mavon finally spat and he took a step back. "Get back!"

He drew his pistol and fired three shots into the edge of the structure. He was rewarded by a spider webbing of cracks that suddenly snaked up the outer edge.

"Mavon?" Gabrielle cried out in horror as the floor beneath her feet tingled with the change. The two of them stepped forward and pounded against the covering with desperate strength.

"I cannot break it!" Legolas cried in dismay.

Xena turned quickly and saw the elf standing across the room, the darkening stain moving along the wall and floor towards the pod.

"Get down!" she shouted, drawing her chakram. She took aim and hurled the weapon with all her strength. The weapon whistled through the air and struck the clear pod with a loud metallic bang. Thick viscous liquid burst from the container, and a single figure practically washed out.

Ignoring the sticky stuff, Legolas dragged the limp form away, just as the pod itself reverted back to the cold unyielding stone of the tower.

Gabrielle looked back over her shoulder towards Legolas. Suddenly, a second loud crack was heard and a geyser of liquid covered her in one sweep and large inhumanly strong fingers encircled her throat.

She struggled for breath as she turned back and locked eyes with the fierce red gaze of a Kajano.

"What the hell?" Tyrion blurted, raising his weapon.

"Get her clear!" Silas bellowed even as Mavon grappled with the half exposed creature.

The world grew fuzzy in Gabrielle's eyes. Her lungs were on fire. She felt her hands weaken as they tried to pry free of the vise constricting her throat.

There were several dull pops and the tissue of the arm holding her seemed to explode. Then suddenly, blessed air flooded her lungs.

The morphing stone washed over the pod and its half emerged victim. The Kajano roared in agony for a moment and thrashed before his body changed to the same substance as the wall. When the change was over he remained half out of the wall, his monstrous arms stretched out, claws open, like some menacing, horrible gargoyle.

Gabrielle slipped back against the rail and slid to the cold floor, covered in the sticky fluid.

The air was filled with a thick, acrid, antiseptic odor.

Off to one side, she could hear the sound of choking coughs.

"Gabrielle," Xena was at her side.

Gabrielle hacked a couple of times, to clear her own lungs of the fluid. "Okay," she managed to roll over. "I'm okay."

She reached out towards the rail and found Mavon's hand instead. She looked up into his concerned expression.

"Thanks," she gave his hand a squeeze.

"No sweat," he replied.

Then Silas was there.

"I can move, guys," Gabrielle added as she struggled to get her legs under her. "Just need air."

Even as she said it, the world tilted and she would have slumped back to the deck if Silas hadn't caught her, scooping her up like a child.

"Nice catch," Xena commented.

Silas smiled as he carried her down to the main floor.

"Great," Mavon said as Silas lay Gabrielle on the floor.

"Now, since that episode is over," he looked up at Tyrion. "You want to tell me what in the fuck is going on here?"

Tyrion looked down at Gabrielle.

"With what?"

"With what?" Mavon snorted. "What the hell do you think? We end up in a mad scientist laboratory with Kajano in the fucking closet trying to pull a grade B horror holo on Gabs while the walls change!"

"Wow Mave," Tyrion said. "You pretty much summed up the whole thing."

"Talk!" Mavon demanded with uncharacteristic vehemence. "You and Si both know something and you aren't sharing! Talk or I walk, right now!"

"You'll what?" Xena asked.

"Walk!" Mavon replied. "As in, out the door, down the street and all the way back to Minas fucking Tirith if I don't get some up front answers and I mean now!"

"Better watch it, Mave," Tyrion growled.

"Fuck you!" Mavon stood and backed towards the door. "You never held out on any of us in the past! Now this whole deal is a big freaking secret! No way! I need to know about these Geiasians, this world, this freaking tower from hell, everything you know!"

Tyrion turned and saw the look in Silas's eyes.

"They probably do need to know now, Boss," he nodded.

Tyrion looked down at Gabrielle, then back up at Xena and Nicolla, then back over to Mavon.

"Okay," he sighed, helping Gabrielle sit back up right, still wiping the viscous substance out of her hair.

"The Geiasians are a super advanced race of intelligent life forms." Tyrion explained. "No one knows what they look like because they exist, mostly, as energy."

"Energy," Xena repeated questioningly.

Tyrion nodded. "They and their technology evolved around the use of crystals, like those."

"It's called Wave Tuned Resonance Energy," a voice added.

"Right, thanks," Tyrion replied automatically.

They all froze suddenly and turned their eyes to where Legolas was gently helping another figure down the steps and onto the slick floor.

He was pale and thin, his short dark hair still matted to his scalp. He was nude, and seemed to be a little unsure of how to make his limbs function.

Gabrielle's jaw fell open when she locked eyes with him. She slowly got to her feet and took a few tentative steps toward him. When she finally found her voice, it emerged as part gasp, part choking sob.

"Felix?"

His flinty gray eyes held hers, and he nodded once, weakly.

Suddenly, nothing mattered as she wrapped her arms around him, fearing that he might vanish at any moment. She didn't care about the slimy fluids still covering his form, or that he was naked, didn't even care about the bitter taste of the stuff on his skin as she covered his cheeks with kisses.

It took a long moment for her to even realize that her fevered embrace was not being returned. When she pulled herself away, his gray eyes stared at her with innocent, curious astonishment.

"Felix?" she asked again. "It is you, isn't it?"

He frowned at that, as if considering. Finally, he nodded. "I think so. I'm not sure."

Gabrielle backed away from him, her relief suddenly being overcome with dread.

"Not sure?"

Instantly, Xena was at her side, studying him intently.

"What do you mean you aren't sure?" she asked.

Felix frowned thoughtfully. "The name sounds familiar to me." He seemed to be considering. "And it feels like it was mine – is mine, I mean."

His eyes wandered over the party with that same, almost childish curiosity.

"I feel like I know all of you," he stopped when his gaze fell on Legolas and Gimli. "Except for the two of you. I don't think I know you."

"Indeed you do not," Legolas smiled gently. "We only recently joined your friends. I have heard many tales about you in the recent days." He gestured to Gabrielle. "Mostly from your friend here. Her affections for you are plain."

Again Felix turned back and looked inquisitively at Gabrielle. "Affection?"

"Yes," Xena nodded.

"For me?" Felix continued.

Legolas set a cloak about Felix's shoulders while helping the gaunt man retain his balance.

"Do you understand my meaning?" Legolas asked.

Felix looked back at Legolas, frowning, and he shook his head slowly.

"What in the blazes is the matter with this one?" Gimli finally blurted impatiently.

That was it. Gabrielle's eyes welled up and she quickly left the chamber.

"Gabs!" Tyrion called after her. He looked at Xena and nodded.

She followed the distraught bard from the chamber.

Felix watched the two women leave, again, with an expression of child like curiosity.

"Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Now all eyes were focused on the anomalous young man. His own expression was void of any emotion except the same innocent curiosity.

"Did I do something?" he asked, pulling the cloak a little tighter about his shoulders.

"I think that's what we're trying to figure out, Bro," Mavon replied.

"Bro?" Felix looked back at Mavon. "Bro-ther? Brother, brothers? Are we related somehow?"

Mavon's eyes went momentarily wide and then darkened. He gestured towards Gimli.

"Okay, I'm with the walking battering ram," he blurted. "What the hell is wrong with him?"

"Easy Mavon," Tyrion said sharply.

Nicolla stepped around Silas, her eyes studying Felix warily.

"Felix?" she asked. "Is it all right if I call you Felix?"

"It's his freaking name, isn't it?" Mavon muttered.

"Frank!" Nicolla hissed. "For once in your life, shut the fuck up!"

That pretty much brought any conversation to a halt. She turned and looked at Felix again.

"Can I call you Felix?" she repeated more gently.

He nodded.

"Do you have a different name that you prefer?" she continued, watching him carefully. "A different designation?"

"No," Felix replied with a touch of uncertainty.

Nicolla gently reached out and took his hand. She seemed to shiver suddenly, as if suppressing a sudden chill.

"What do you say we get you out of here and find someplace to clean up and get some fresh clothes for you, okay?"

"Okay," Felix nodded obediently.

Like a child, Felix accepted Nicolla's offered hand and allowed her to lead him from the chamber.

Once the two of them were gone, Mavon looked over at Tyrion, his eyes sharp.

"Will someone please tell me what in the name of all that's holy is going on here?"

Silas and Tyrion looked at the dark doorway where the others had vanished.

Tyrion sighed after a moment, slowly shaking his head. "I wish I could Mave. I really, really do."

When Nicolla led Felix through the main entrance of the tower and into the fading light of day he suddenly stopped short, gazing about the vast courtyard in unabashed wonder.

"Excellent," he whispered.

Nicolla smiled. "Yeah, it's pretty, isn't it?"

Felix nodded. "Ambient atmosphere and temperature has successfully supported the growth of natural flora and fauna to promote nitrogen oxygen based environment to support multiple life form options."

Nicolla did the best she could to keep her voice calm. "What do you mean, Felix?"

"Station seven was introduced to assist in the terra-forming portion of the planetary development, and so was required to support the initial seeding of vegetation in this vicinity." He frowned suddenly, looking back at the Tower of Orthanc. "This unit was supposed to revert to natural elements upon completion of its assigned tasks, once the atmospheric equilibrium was established."

"You mean it was supposed to self destruct?" Nicolla asked.

Felix shook his head. "The siliclastic strain of the power system lattice should have converted the ship and its systems into more common organic elements, allowing the vessel to slowly erode over time."

Nicolla spied a small fountain nearby and led the curious Felix towards it.

"Have a seat in there, Felix," she instructed.

He stepped obediently into the cool water and sat down, his eyes still looking up and around at the tops of the trees stretching over their heads.

His eyes continued gazing around in wonder until he spied two more figures.

Gabrielle was pacing back and forth, practically vibrating with frustration, her alien weapon twirling reflexively.

"Gabrielle," Xena said as calmly as she could.

"I was too slow," Gabrielle snarled. "All that running about like a tornado in a temple, all the advantages of Tyrion and his people and still, I was still too slow!"

With a cry, she hewed at a nearby fallen tree, slicing through it neatly.

"If we were back home, I'd swear Ares was pulling some nasty joke on us!" She went on. "But no, we're out in the middle of nowhere, not even on the same world and still!"

She dropped to a seat on the hewn log and shuddered with emotion as her tears began to flow.

Xena knelt in front of her and placed a reassuring hand on Gabrielle's shoulder.

"I meet him, then I forget about him, only to find him again a few years later, and then lose him again, only to find him _again_ here in this mad house, and it isn't him!"

"We didn't have a choice about forgetting him the first time," Xena said gently. "Remember?"

"It's the principle, Xena," Gabrielle countered with a sniff.

"The principle?" Xena smiled in spite of herself. "Now you're just pouting."

"It's him, Xena," Gabrielle said earnestly. "It's him in body. Him before the accident that cost him his eyes, but him!" She looked over at Felix still seated placidly in the fountain as Nicolla washed the gunk from his flesh.

"And yet," Gabrielle went on. "It's not."

Xena looked back at Felix and then at Gabrielle. "What do you mean?"

"The body is there, for the most part, even the mind, but there was more fire, more passion in the false eyes he used to have than the real ones he has now, you know?"

Xena shook her head.

"The fire is gone, the passion, the confidence, all gone, it's like he didn't make it all the way back." Gabrielle explained. "And it's my fault because we didn't find him soon enough!"

"Stop that!" Xena said sharply, effectively snapping Gabrielle out of her self pity for a moment. "You can't take the blame for this, not by a long shot! And I won't have you putting that kind of pressure on yourself regardless, you understand me?"

She looked back at Felix and shrugged. "Besides, you don't know he's going to be like that forever."

"What?" Gabrielle sniffled.

"Gabrielle," Xena explained. "I have no idea what's happened to him, or how, but I do know that it's hard on a person. Remember Thessalonia?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"You were a little dazed after I brought you back," Xena continued. "And you stayed that way, mostly. It wasn't until Tyrion,"

"Okay, okay," Gabrielle nodded. "I get the point."

"Felix has been dead for weeks, and suddenly brought back to life, in a different body, I don't care if it looks identical to him or not, it's still different. The trauma to him must be enormous. He's probably in shock, and won't come all the way back for a while, maybe a long while."

Gabrielle looked over at Felix rising unabashedly from the soiled water and wrapping the cloak over his body again, more out of a desire to dry off than any sense of perceived modesty.

"The question is," Xena said quietly. "Can you be patient enough to wait for that to happen?"

"He was patient with me," The young bard replied. "It's the least I can do."

Xena gave her a reassuring smile and gently nudged Gabrielle towards the tower.

"Let's see how the others are doing."

When they returned to the tower, they found Tyrion and the others in the middle of an interrogation.

The raggedy man that had been discovered by Gimli was still muttering quietly and unintelligibly to himself as he cowered in a corner.

The other one, the man name Chras was seated in the throne, his hands bound at the wrists, his eyes cold and calculating. A thin trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

It was he that the group was focusing on at the moment.

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Mavon snarled. "What was the deal with the reconstitution chamber on the third floor and how long have you been using it?"

"Those secrets of Orthanc will not be granted to you if you persist in this manner," he whispered. "If you release me, I will tell you all."

Gabrielle jumped as Mavon's fist hit the man's face again. Chras recoiled and nearly fell over the armrest.

"Easy Mave," Tyrion cautioned.

Mavon grasped him by the collars and yanked back upright.

"Listen to me you little shit!" he snarled. "You're sitting on a pile of tech that you shouldn't have and I just found my partner in a bubble! Now I am in a really bad mood, and if you don't start talking, I'll hurt you so much you'll think it's a career!"

Again, the man smiled through bloodied lips.

With a growl, Mavon unloaded on him again and this time, Chrass did flip over the armrest of the throne.

"That's enough!" Tyrion said sharply. "Jeez, Mavon! What gives?"

He stepped up and put the battered nobleman back on the throne.

Tyrion looked at the man for a long moment as if considering what should be done with him.

"He's stalling for time," Xena nodded as she observed the prisoner.

"I agree," Mavon replied.

Tyrion nodded. "The real question is why?"

He looked at Chras and smiled coldly. "You can't think that anyone is coming to save your useless ass, can you?"

Again the man said nothing.

"He's keeping us here," Silas suddenly said, pushing off the wall.

"As opposed to going where?" Xena countered.

"Dol-Guldor," Gabrielle whispered to herself. "We should be heading on to Dol-Guldor, not waiting here."

"What are we waiting for, then?" Gimli added.

Tyrion turned back to the bound prisoner and opened his mouth to speak but he never got the chance.

The shots rang out in the closed chamber like a pair of short thunderclaps.

Everyone in the room jumped in fright.

Chras's chest seemed to explode partially and his eyes went wide. He slumped in the seat and lay still.

"Let's get moving," Mavon said as he slid his pistol back into the holster.

"What the hell was that?" Tyrion thundered.

"He didn't know shit!" Mavon shot back. "All he was doing was sitting there acting all bad until we figured out he was worthless! He didn't know squat about the tech in this place! Like Xena said, he was stalling!"

In a flash, Tyrion had the younger subordinate pinned against the wall.

"You going bush on me or something?" he asked. "Cause you just murdered someone in cold blood!"

"He didn't have any Intel we could use!" Mavon shoved Tyrion back.

"As a matter of fact, sir!" he continued. "You and Si seem to be the only ones who know what's going on here, and you aren't talking either, so fuck off!"

He turned and would have stormed out of the chamber if Tyrion had not held him fast.

He shoved Mavon against the wall again. Instantly his pistol was drawn and under Mavon's chin.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Silas boomed in alarm. "It's getting real here guys!"

"Tyrion," Gabrielle said quietly.

"I don't care where we are or what tech level the planet is, you crazy shit!" Tyrion gave the gun a quick push for emphasis. "You plan on doing anything like that again, you better take me out first, you got me? Cause if you don't, I swear on my daughters' life that I will do you myself and leave you to rot!"

Mavon's only response to the threat was a subtle hint of a smile. Then he shoved Tyrion back again, straightened his jacket and stormed out of the chamber.

"We did it to ourselves."

The voice startled Mavon out of his private thoughts. He turned and found Nicolla and Felix standing behind him. He had to force himself to remember that this Felix wasn't his Felix.

"What?" He asked crossly.

"Back in Minas Tirith," Felix said slowly, as if he were struggling to remember. "You asked me why we always get the messy jobs. It's because we do it to ourselves."

"Back in Minas," Mavon repeated, giving Felix an incredulous look. "What does that have to do with anything going on here right now? Why are you even talking to me, freak!"

"Mavon," Nicolla started.

"Shut up!" Mavon snapped. "You're all sure and certain that this, this, this skin suit is Felix, and I'm telling you that he ain't! He ain't even close! He's just some fucked up dupe that can't buy a clue if he bartered the whole Mintaka System!"

"Mavon!" Nicolla said sharply.

"Tell me I'm wrong!" Mavon glared at Felix. Then he stepped up nose to nose. "Tell me you're the guy that covered my ass on Varen Seven! That you're he one who actually pulled that trigger back in Tirith and brought that galloping fuck nut down!"

Felix stared back at him, his clear eyes, startled and momentarily confused.

When no immediate answer was forthcoming, Mavon growled and shoved Felix away.

He sprawled on the ground and looked back up at Mavon with wide eyes.

"Frank!" Nicolla interposed herself between the two men as she moved to help Felix. "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"You," Mavon growled at Felix. "You aren't Felix!"

Then he turned his glare on Nicolla. "Keep Gabby's brain dead love doll away from me, you got that?" He turned and stormed off towards the main gate.

Nicolla waited a few moments to make sure Mavon wouldn't turn back around.

"Are you okay?" she asked Felix as she helped him up.

Felix stared after Mavon, a curious, almost contemplative expression on his features.

"Felix?" Nicolla pressed.

"I'm alright," he replied softly. He frowned slightly. "He's always been a volatile personality. I don't understand that."

"He's been dealing with a lot since you, well," she shrugged.

Felix slowly shook his head. "It's more than that."

Nicolla looked at him questioningly.

"We're going to lose him," Felix said simply.

The army of Rohan arrived late in the day, when the sun was already beginning to dim to a dull fiery red in the western sky. Eomer rode at the head of the column and passed the gates of Orthanc.

"Welcome to Isengard, Lord," Legolas greeted him. "All has been ordered for your arrival. Enter and take your leave."

Eomer nodded and dropped to the ground.

"The Kajano have served us well indeed," he said, scanning the courtyard before the tower. "As have Master Tyrion and his companions."

He handed the reigns of his horse to his squire and strode with the elf deeper into the compound even as his men began ordering themselves for the occupation.

"I see little in the way of fallen," Eomer noted as they walked. "I would hear this tale."

"It is a strange tale to tell, My Lord," Legolas nodded. "We arrived at Isengard to find all abandoned. Only two were discovered closeted within the keep, one in the tower and a second in a nearby barracks."

Eomer's steps faltered and slowed to a halt as he saw Tyrion, Silas, Xena, Nicolla, and Gimli coming toward them.

"Damn!" Tyrion smiled. "You're early! We didn't get a chance to set the barbecue up!"

Eomer frowned.

"Never mind," Tyrion shook his head.

"I am surprised to find Master Korbal is not with you," Eomer said. "What has become of he and his strange brethren?"

"Good Question," Xena replied. "They weren't here when we arrived and we haven't seen them since we took control of this place."

"They've gone away," Gimli grumbled. "And hopefully they'll stay away."

Even as he said that, there came cries of alarm from the men who were setting up camp in the courtyard.

They all turned and watched in horror and amazement as Korbal and his sons materialized. They were filthy, covered in dark dry blood and grime. Their luminous green blood flowed from various wounds, and their armor was stained and marred, even hanging loose in some places.

"What the fuck?" Silas whispered.

"Kor!" Tyrion exclaimed. "What the hell happened?"

The big alien stopped and stared at them with fierce red eyes.

"_Many Orcs from the north,"_ he growled, pointing with one clawed hand. _"They are no more."_

He let a large mass of folded cloth fall to the ground behind him, and dozens of white objects spilled out onto the green grass.

Nicolla gasped in horror when she realized that they were all skulls, cleaned and polished white like ivory, glistening in the fading sunlight.

The other remaining Kajano released similar bundles and let their grisly trophies also spill out.

Tyrion looked at the skulls littering the ground, his expression a mixture of horror and outrage.

"You and your boys took on a group this big?" he stammered. Then he looked up and, without even considering the creature before him, he exploded. "What the hell is the matter with you? Are you completely out of your fucking mind?"

The loud growls from all of the creatures effectively snapped him back to reality.

Korbal turned back to face Eomer. _"Your enemy is gone."_

Eomer matched Korbal's gaze and nodded.

"You have my thanks, Master Korbal," he said. "And the gratitude of all Rohan."

He turned and looked back at the tower standing ominously before him. Then he gazed down at the heads near his feet. They were thick, beastly, with long fanged teeth - Orc skulls. He seemed to be considering something.

"You have done far more than repay the debt to my people," he went on after a few moments. "And I would give you a gift worthy of those deeds, Master Korbal."

He turned and looked again at the tower of Orthanc and then back again at the creature.

"Our animosities were begun when you and your people sought shelter," he went on. "And you surrendered back to Rohan, that which was hers."

"This place was granted to Treebeard, the great Shepard of the Forest, to manage and maintain until the king returned. He in turn, returned it to the rule of the lord Aragorn, who granted its management to me. In gratitude, I now give to you this fortress of Isengard to use as a home, a stronghold, as you see fit. To the north, the deep woods, known to most as Mirkwood lies. It is a place of darkness, filled with creatures both great and dangerous. I would think that would be a more than adequate hunting ground for you and your brethren?"

The big alien's eyes widened for just a moment.

"I have only one request, Master Korbal, should you accept this gift." Eomer went on. "That the alliance between our two peoples remains forever strong."

"_You would do this?"_ Korbal asked.

"Do I have your pledge of friendship, Master Korbal?" Eomer asked, extending his hand. "May we live together in peace?"

Korbal looked at the man and then at his hand as if considering. Then he slowly extended his own massive hand. The thick clawed fingers encircled Eomer's forearm.

The flesh of the alien was cool and almost clammy under Eomer's touch, but he did not flinch.

"_In peace,"_ Korbal grated as if the word were unfamiliar to him.

"In that case, My Lord," Eomer nodded. He gestured to the tower.

Korbal and the other Kajano strode purposefully into the tower and entered the main chamber.

Korbal considered for a few moments and then seated himself on the massive throne in the central chamber.

The black, ornate seat had been cut from stone in a manner that seemed meant for a creature of his stature. His large clawed hands fell on the armrests as his eyes scanned the chamber.

The remaining ten Kajano all stood in a semi circle around the throne, facing the others.

"This place seems to suit you, Lord Korbal," Eomer commented as he watched the big creature.

"_It does,"_ Korbal replied. Then he made several guttural noises that they could not identify. Instantly, several of the other Kajano exited the chamber and went back outside, ostensibly to collect the trophies lying out in the field.

Korbal leaned back in the seat as one of the Tunji began tending to his numerous wounds.

"_Your path to the next dwelling is open,"_ he growled. _"There were others."_

"Others?" Tyrion asked.

"_Leaving this place,"_ Korbal said. _"Moving north."_

"North from this other place?" Tyrion continued.

"Do you refer to the ancient keep of Dol-Guldor, within the forest yonder?" Eomer asked, gesturing in the general direction.

Korbal nodded once. Then he sat up straighter and his eyes fixed upon the open doors as Nicolla led Felix into the room.

Instantly, the six Kajano were on their feet, weapons trained on the recently reconstituted man, their growls echoing like thunder in the vast open space.

The air was filled with the whine of powering weapons.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Tyrion protested as he stepped quickly between the Kajano and his people. "What are you doing?"

Nicolla squealed in fright while Felix only started for a moment and then looked at the beasts with wide eyed curiosity.

"_This one is no more!"_ Korbal grated loudly.

"Well, he's feeling better now!" Tyrion blurted back. "Slow down boys! Just hold up a second!"

Korbal slowly stood up, relaxing from his crouch and stepped over towards Felix.

Felix simply stared up at Korbal in mute wonder.

Korbal's faceplate came within inches of Felix's nose as he studied the human. The growl emanated from behind the mask, now with a more thoughtful or perhaps calculating cadence.

After a few long moments where everyone held their breaths, with Mavon being the only possible exception, the Kajano Leader stood back up and looked at the others.

"_Not the blind one,"_ he grated.

"No shit," Mavon muttered. He got a whap on the shoulder from Silas in response to his comment.

Then Korbal looked back at Felix.

"_Tell,"_ he ordered.

Felix frowned. Then he shrugged. "I don't know how." He admitted.

"_Tell!" _Korbal growled again.

Felix held the gaze unflinchingly, but there was no aggression in his eyes.

"I do not know," he said slowly. "I cannot fabricate an answer that would be adequate to restrain you from harming my person. So if you are going to do so with the intention of extracting information, you may begin now, but the answer will remain constant."

Korbal did not move for along moment, and everyone held their breath. Then the big alien turned away and resumed his seat.

Felix looked about at the inquisitive gazes focused on him from the humans and non humans in the room.

"How is this possible?" Eomer breathed in wonder.

"It's complicated, Eomer," Nicolla said quickly. "And it wasn't supposed to happen in the first place."

Felix merely offered a shrug.

The Kajano immediately began making the tower of Orthanc more suitable to their occupation. This, in turn convinced the non Kajano contingent that they would be more comfortable setting camp beyond the circular wall.

The tents were finally erected as the sun began to set, golden red in the west. The shadows lengthened and grew dark. Watch fires sprouted to life about the camp. The air was filled with the constant hum of activity.

Tyrion, Xena, and Silas sat in the tent assigned to the members of Old Number 7, absently munching on some of the provisions.

The threat to Rohan was over, and Eomer was not planning on committing any troops to a further march into the nearby forest of Fanghorn. If Tyrion, Xena and the others were planning on pursuing the stolen crown of the Witch King, they would be forced to do it alone.

At present, that thought was not on their minds.

"It's like he can't function anymore," Silas finally said aloud.

Xena paused in mid chew, her eyes locked inward, thoughtful.

"His drive is dead," Tyrion sighed. He rose and began pacing. "He's almost passive."

"What do you mean almost?" Silas countered. "The boy's got no balls at all. It's like he forgot how to be a soldier."

"Or forgot he was a soldier," Xena offered. She folded her hands together, resting her elbows on the table. "It's more than just his drive."

She took a few moments, gathering her thoughts.

"Gabrielle said that Felix was like a child," she began.

"So he's a simpleton," Silas put in.

Xena shook her head. "No. It's more complicated than that." She frowned, trying to frame her thoughts. "It's like all his aggression, all his passion, like all of that didn't make it back with him. The intelligence is still there, maybe even more than before. But the emotional base is gone."

"So, that makes him what?" Tyrion asked. "A wise man, a mystic?"

"A child," Xena replied evenly. "Or a saint. It is Felix though. That much, at least, I'm sure of."

"And what makes you so sure?" Silas asked.

"Because Gabrielle is sure," Xena replied without hesitation.

"What are you thinking?"

Gabrielle blinked and her eyes focused again on the inquisitive gaze of the man across the small fire from her. Felix stared back at her expectantly.

"Just trying to figure this whole thing out," she shrugged. He was right there in front of her. She could reach out and touch him, kiss him. All those things she had finally wanted and regretted not doing, were possible, except now, the object of her desires had no desire for her, apart from acquiring information.

"I already told you," Felix replied innocently. "The crystalline devices that each of you carries, function as a data recording, translation, and transcription device. When the organic aspect of the creature being recorded is terminated, the information is transcribed to the nearest reconstitution facility and a secondary replicant is created, allowing for the continuation of the sentient-"

"I understand that part," Gabrielle cut him off. "Mostly."

"Which aspects of the procedure elude understanding for you?" he asked. "I would be happy to explain it again."

"Would you?" she asked him suddenly. "Would you really be happy?"

He frowned at that. "Of course I would."

"And what does that feel like, Felix?" Gabrielle asked. "Can you explain that to me the same way you can explain how you came back?"

"Explain being happy?" Felix asked. He considered for a moment. "Well, the concept of individual satisfaction being derived by any sentient beings' individual affinities and aversions is a simple concept in an of itself, however,"

"No!" Gabrielle interrupted him sharply. "What makes you happy, Felix? I don't want to understand the idea. I want to know what makes you happy?"

He frowned again and his gaze focused inward, as if searching.

"Do you even remember feeling happy, Felix?" Gabrielle asked him. "Do you remember smiling, or laughing?"

"I can recall instances," Felix replied slowly. "Situations or social occasions where it was the prescribed response given the relevant stimulus."

A short exasperated sound burst from Gabrielle's lungs and she closed her eyes, tilting her head skyward and tried desperately not to lose her patience.

"That's not what I mean, Felix," she said tightly.

He frowned again. "You have asked me several questions related to emotional states and responses, and I have responded with the relevant facts as observed and experienced by this construct," he shook his head. "I have related those facts with as much verbosity as I have been permitted. I fail to understand your current state of anxiety considering the information I have related to you?"

Gabrielle fell back against the soft grass and gave a sharp cry of frustration.

Everything was there. All the experiences, the conversations, the ideas, everything, reduced to the basic level of facts, like one of her scrolls, recorded to convey the emotions, but not experience them.

Her eyes snapped open and fixed on the stars twinkling beyond the layer of pale blue clouds. Even as the soft vaporous masses passed in the heavens, she could still see the lights, shimmering through, just beyond the surface…

"That's it," she whispered. She sat up and leaned towards Felix intently.

"Do you remember the talk we had the night before you and Mavon went ahead to scout for us?" she asked.

"Of course," Felix nodded.

"Okay," she began slowly. The subject was still difficult for her to speak about, but she was desperate for information and she needed something that would/should create some form of emotional response.

"How did you_ feel_ when I told you about what happened to me?" She asked slowly. Even as she spoke, the remembered pain reared its ugly head in her memory. She forced her emotions down even as she attempted to bring his emotions back to the surface.

Felix considered for a moment. "I attempted to rationalize the aspect of forced copulation for several hours that evening, in order to better understand the reasoning of any sentient being that would elect to commit such a negative act."

"And?" Gabrielle asked.

"I was unable to do so," Felix replied. "The entire aspect of forced copulation within the context of your experience was the complete antithesis of my social, moral, cultural, and ethical experience. It was not considered a moral or ethically sanctioned action."

Gabrielle paused for a moment. His statement about attempting to rationalize the ideal had stuck in her mind. At first, she had been repelled by the coldness of the response.

The sudden realization hit her like a round house punch.

"Felix?" She asked. "Can you recall your entire life in this way? Just relating the experiences of your life?"

"Can't everyone?" Felix asked innocently. "The sum of ones life experiences are recorded in the sentient brain. It would follow that the sentient being would be able to recall and utilize that information at will?"

That was it! It was so simple that she was annoyed that she hadn't come to the understanding before.

A wave of hope flooded through her and in her excitement, she reached over and kissed him.

"Come on," she said. "We need to talk to the others."

"You're kidding, right?" Mavon scoffed.

Gabrielle turned to Tyrion. "It is him, Tyrion. All of him. Everything that he is or was, it's all there."

"I got that part," Tyrion replied. "It's the other stuff I'm having trouble with."

They were all in their customary tent, erected just beyond the walls of Isengard amidst the rest of the host of Rohan.

Gabrielle paced about impatiently, trying to find a way to convey what she was thinking. Her eyes fell on the object she needed.

She reached out and grasped Tyrion's data pad.

"This," she began, holding it up for them all to see. "You use these to record information, right?"

"Easy with that Gabs," Tyrion said urgently as she waved it around.

"Am I right?" Gabrielle pressed. "Felix and I were using them to translate and copy scrolls in the library of Minas Tirith before we came here. Right?"

"Yes!" Tyrion replied, snatching the delicate piece of equipment from her. He looked sidelong at Nicolla. "Now I know you wiped everything out of her head."

"Exactly!" Gabrielle pointed at him. "That's what happened to Felix!"

"Gabrielle," Xena interrupted. "You're going to fast for any of us to keep up. Take a deep breath and slow down."

Gabrielle glared at Xena for a moment and then the gaze softened and she nodded.

"I believe what Gabrielle is saying," Felix began.

"Shut up, skin sack!" Mavon blurted hotly.

"Hey!" Nicolla protested.

She looked at Felix.

"Go on, hon?"

Felix looked nervously at the scowling Mavon, and then he looked at Gabrielle.

"If I have been able to accurately extrapolate the information you are attempting to convey, I am assuming that you are referring to the cognitive recall, independent of the normally adjoining emotional stimulus utilized as a balancing medium?"

"That settled it for me," Silas said. "All them big words, it's got to be him."

This brought soft snickers from many in the room. Felix looked at them each curiously.

"He's a walking data pad," Nicolla suddenly whispered in awe.

"Thank you," Gabrielle sighed with relief.

"All the information," Nicolla continued. "But it's only information."

"But can we use that information?" Gabrielle asked.

"Use it how?" Xena asked.

Gabrielle turned back to Nicolla with a helpless expression on her face.

"I don't know the words," she admitted.

"If I may," Felix interjected. "I believe Gabrielle is suggesting a neuro cognitive blending and re-initialization of the emotional components of the data registered within me. A reforming of the emotional paradigm, if you will."

"He does have the words and I still don't understand him," Silas smiled.

"You're talking about re-experiencing your entire life," Xena said quietly. She looked over at Nicolla. "Like what you did with me."

Tyrion let a low whistle escape his lips.

"Holy shit," Nicolla whispered.

"Wait a second here," Silas said quickly. "For all us grunts in the room, spell it out in basic for us, please?"

"Yeah, no shit," Mavon nodded.

Nicolla looked back at them and smiled. "Remember when we had those crystals on the table and Felix had us take the ones that applied to us?"

"Yeah?" Mavon replied. "I remember you didn't like them much."

"He's the result," Nicolla said. "All that data downloaded to another physical being, this one."

"So he isn't Felix, then," Mavon countered. "I knew it!"

"No!" Nicolla said sharply.

"Shut up Frank!" Tyrion ordered.

Nicolla took a breath. "He isn't Felix, yet," She went on. "Everything that was him – is him, is in his head. It's just hasn't finished processing, or hasn't processed correctly."

She shrugged. "It's on the hard drive, it just hasn't been applied yet."

"Can you fix him?" Xena asked.

"In theory, I could," Nicolla replied.

"In theory?" Tyrion asked.

"This isn't like reawakening blocked memories," Nicolla gestured to Xena and Gabrielle. "This would involved literally walking through every aspect of Felix's life, from his first conscious thought to the present and letting him re-experience it all again."

"While you experience it right along with him," Xena added.

"Yes, but the real trick," Nicolla continued. "Will be in layering those experiences correctly to re create the emotional foundation that Felix had before he, um, before we lost him."

"Now you lost me," Xena shook her head.

"It's about memory, yes," Nicolla explained. "But at the same time, think back through your life. There are memories that you recall as object lessons, right? But then there are other memories, less easy to recall, that serve as an abstract foundation. You understand?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"I understand," Felix nodded. He looked at the others in the room. "She is referring to the abstract aspect of moral conviction."

"Oh, that helps," Mavon rolled his eyes.

"She is proposing a re layering of my moral and ethical foundation by utilizing secondary facts that do not require the clear retention that they currently enjoy. Instead, an emotional base is established within a sensation of factual ambiguity."

"Conscience," Xena whispered. "You mean establishing his sense of conscience."

"Yes!" Nicolla replied. "His sense of conscience, attitudes towards race, theology, sexuality, everything that fills out the more ethereal parts if who he is. All the emotions reinitialized as we go through his life."

"Could you handle that?" Tyrion asked.

"I don't know," Nicolla admitted. She looked at Felix. "I'd need to take a look."

"I have no objection," Felix replied easily.

They all watched as Nicolla stepped up and place her hands on either side of Felix's face. Their eyes closed and they both went completely still.

Then they both blinked and Nicolla inhaled deeply.

"It's really strange," she admitted. "And I wouldn't be able to do it in one sitting. It would take a couple of days at least."

"Can it be done on the move?" Tyrion asked. "Because we still have to move out of here in the morning."

"If we divide the re-initialization process into four hour intervals," Felix suggested. "Then we could minimize the adverse sensations you would experience while at the same time expediting the process safely and continuing on the mission that was set before us by Aragorn."

"How long would that take?" Tyrion asked.

"Complete revivification of the neurological pathways would take approximately one hundred and sixty standard hours. But only fifty-nine percent of that time would require direct contact between myself and Nicolla's mind." Felix offered.

"And in between those sessions?" Xena asked. "What could we expect?"

"That's the tricky part," Nicolla replied. "We're going to be returning his emotional awareness, and that means he's going to be on a wild ride. We can expect intense mood swings, irrational behavior, maybe some hallucinations as the emotions begin to emerge."

"And there is the possibility of a cascade effect," Felix added.

"A neural cascade?" Tyrion asked. "Not sure if I like the sound of that."

"You shouldn't," Nicolla explained. "If Felix ends up in an emotional cascade, then it could get very ugly very fast."

"More mood swings?" Silas asked.

"Violent ones," Nicolla nodded. "Massive peaks and valleys."

"And it could directly and adversely affect my cognitive reasoning," Felix finished.

"It could drive you mad," Xena translated.

"As a hatter," Nicolla nodded. "He may also revert socially to keep pace with his emotional reconstitution."

"Now you with the big words!" Mavon blurted.

"He could regress to a child like state in some ways as we do this," Nicolla glared at Mavon. "How's that?"

"Much better," Mavon replied.

"There is the issue of contamination," Felix began.

"I was getting to that," Nicolla replied. "The real trick for this is going to be maintaining a sterile environment while we do this."

"Sterile?" Silas scoffed. "Here?"

"I mean emotionally," Nicolla replied. "While we're doing this, Felix absolutely can not be exposed to anything emotionally extreme, good or bad. Not till at least the third session, when we've gotten him close to where he was before. If he gets hit with strong situations before he is ready to cope with them. That could contribute to a breakdown."

"And what does that mean?" Silas asked.

"It means that Felix and I will be isolated the entire time we're working this whole drill. Interaction will be determined after the sessions, and based on his responses. If I say no, it's no, period." She looked at Gabrielle and then at Mavon. "Understand?"

Tyrion shook his head. "No deal kids."

They all looked at him in shock.

"What?" Gabrielle blurted.

"This is a situation that requires a controlled environment and that's the last thing we have here." Tyrion said. He looked at Nicolla. "Is there a chance that these emotional building blocks will re-establish themselves naturally, over time?"

"It already has," Nicolla added. "He was able to recognize all of us shortly after we rescued him. But it could take several lunars, maybe more than a full cycle before he comes close to who he was before."

"But it will happen, eventually?" Tyrion pressed.

"Yes, I believe it will," Nicolla nodded.

"Tyrion," Gabrielle all but pleaded.

"Then we're going to get Felix back eventually and there's no risk to you or anyone else, right?" Tyrion asked.

"Sure," Nicolla nodded.

"Then don't mess with it," Tyrion finished. "We've got you back, Doc. I can wait till the rest of you gets here too."

"We might need him long before a year, Tyrion!" Gabrielle protested.

"Gabs!" Tyrion barked. "You're personal feelings are impairing your judgment right now. If we do what you suggest, we risk two people's lives and the mission we're on. If we let it happen on its own then there's no risk to anyone and everyone gets where they need to be."

Gabrielle looked at Xena, ready to push the issue, but the Warrior Princess subtly shook her head.

"Aside from that," Tyrion went on. "I got the word from Eomer. The Rohan boys aren't going any further than this. They're primary objective was to secure their region, and we've finished doing that. With the Kajano accepting permanent residence here in Isengard, this aspect of the mission is closed."

"So, we go solo from here, that's what you're telling me?" Mavon asked.

"Yup," Tyrion nodded.

"Okay," Mavon nodded. "Then that means I'm out of this nut hutch."

All eyes turned to Mavon.

"Excuse me?" Silas's gaze darkened.

"If we're done helping these boys secure their borders, then as far as I'm concerned, I'm done with this shit." He looked over at Tyrion. "Unless you and Silas feel like talking?"

Tyrion and Silas exchanged a look, and Tyrion placed his hand behind his back.

Mavon waited a few seconds and then nodded.

"Right," He began collecting his personal gear. "See you all later." He slung his back pack over one shoulder and turned towards the entrance.

"Tyrion?" Xena started.

"Do you believe in God, Mavon?" Tyrion asked simply as the younger man's fingers touched the cloth flap separating them from the outside. "In a Great Maker, a Father Creator, whatever. Do you believe in that?"

His hand dropped and he turned back to face Tyrion.

"Well?" Tyrion asked expectantly.

"I don't know," Mavon shrugged. "Yeah, I guess, in some way. Maybe?"

"Well, you're standing next to one of God's houses right now," Tyrion nodded. "Or _a_ god's house at any rate. That's the only way us primitives can comprehend these things."

Mavon frowned but stepped back further into the tent.

"Everything has a beginning and an end," Tyrion explained. "Billions of years ago, a race of beings, more further advanced than anything we can imagine, reached a state of awareness that allowed them to essentially live forever. Their technology became a tool with which they could actually create entire planets, fill worlds with life."

"I'm not here for a chapel lesson, boss," Mavon interjected impatiently.

The Geiasians were driven by principles of science," Tyrion went on. "Not theology, but the life forms they created couldn't comprehend that, and so, theology was born, as a bridge to keep things moving until societies achieved a level of technological and social awareness to be told the truth."

Tyrion looked back at Silas. The big man simply nodded.

Twenty five years ago," he said. "I got drafted into a top secret special unit set up to raid one of these ships, a ship like the one standing in the middle of that compound out there," He jerked his thumb back towards the wall of the tent, indicating the tower of Orthanc beyond.

A member of the Geiasian Council had defected and given us Intel on how to get in and out, and since the possibility for technical data was so good, High Command gave the green light on the incursion."

"I met the Geiasian, a man named Taldon," Tyrion continued. "At least, he appeared to us as a man."

"Appeared?" Nicolla asked.

"They're morphs," Tyrion explained. "He told me that they could appear to primitive life forms in any guise they wished. His appearance, according to him, was what he called his most comfortable façade."

"Anyway," he continued. "He proceeded to give me the complete layout of what he called a Seedling Vessel. He also outlined various aspects of the roles that he and his fellow Geiasians played in the development of sentient worlds and cultures. It was his defection that led to the establishment of the Articles of Confederation that we follow."

"Now, within those articles, there were several references to Source Worlds. These were worlds that the Geiasians agreed to stop meddling with and allow to progress independently. In exchange we were forbidden to enter the area of Sol Space, otherwise known as Sector thirty seven, until such time as the civilizations advance to a level that would be acceptable to the Confederated Systems. At that point, the Articles could be amended to include those worlds, ostensibly with others being placed on the 'No Contact' list."

There were seven worlds that the Geiasians referred to as Seedling Worlds." Tyrion went on. "These were worlds where they would create various species of life and see how well they survived in the various climates they had created."

"Species," Gabrielle shivered. "You mean us, don't you?"

Tyrion nodded.

"Excuse me," Felix asked. "May I say something?"

"Yeah, sure." Tyrion nodded.

Felix looked about the room at the uncomfortable faces. His eyes fell upon Gimli and Legolas who had remained silent as the discussion unfolded.

"What the Master Chief is trying to state is this," He began. "The various sentient and sub-sentient species inherent on this world are the culmination of ongoing experimentation in the field of sentient creation as undertaken by the beings you know as the Geiasians. To that effect, the vessels similar to the one now named Orthanc were created to begin the initial seeding process. There were seven experimental Seeding Planets located in a remote system. It was on these seven planets that the Geiasian Council manipulated and modified the various sentient and sub-sentient genomes that would inevitably be placed in selective areas of the universe for the purpose of propagation. The creatures that showed the most balanced adaptive skills would prosper while lesser creatures would eventually wean themselves out of the eco system through the process of Natural Selection."

"Do you realize what you're saying?" Xena asked in horror.

"I do," Felix replied simply. "It is my current state of clinical detachment that allows me to communicate these facts in the manner that seems to be required based on the subject of your current discussion."

He stood up and looked at the assembled people. "It may be of interest to note that, while I was reconstituted within the tower of Orthanc, I did have access to the equivalent of a Geiasian Data Core, and was able to retrieve some information on our current location and the reasons for our abductions from our various points of existence in the galaxy."

"What?" Everyone asked at once.

"And you never thought to bring that up?" Mavon blurted angrily.

"It would not have been considered germane to the current subject," Felix replied. "I apologize if these two separate issues are conjoined in our current situation, however I was unable to establish any baseline relevance."

"Fuck baseline, whatever!" Mavon went on. "What else do you know?"

"Felix," Tyrion said slowly. "What else do you know?"

"A great deal of information was made available to me," Felix replied. "Almost as if I were a small portion of a greater whole and while I was not conscious as I am now, I was aware of completing countless calculations along a base program."

"A sentient computer network?" Nicolla asked.

"That would be the most generic reference, yes," Felix nodded.

Nicolla's mouth hung slightly agape as she stared at Felix with a mixture of wonder and horror.

"Oh Felix," She whispered. "No wonder you're the way you are. You were Matrixed!"

"Yes," Felix nodded.

"Hold on that, Nicky," Tyrion interrupted. He looked at Felix. "If I ask you some questions, will you answer honestly?"

"Of course," Felix nodded as if the idea of lying was the furthest thing from his mind.

"What planet is this?"

"This planet has no name on record, however it is part of the constellation known as Nimloth approximately three hundred and seventy light years from galactic center. It lies in the galactic arm upon grid coordinates galactic north three hundred fifty two and twenty by five fifty nine and seven."

"Nimloth?" Legolas sat up.

"Yes," Felix nodded.

"Nimloth was the White Tree of Numenor," Legolas explained. "A sapling of that once great tree now grows in the courtyard of the king, in Minas Tirith."

"There are several keys to your galactic locale hidden within the various mythologies of your planet, Legolas." Felix nodded. "The seven seeing stones that were provided to your ancestors were representative of the seven planets of the constellation Nimloth, lending to your ancient rhyme, seven stars and seven stones and one white tree. The seven stars refer, here, to the seven silmarils. However, it is also representative to the seven elveshini branches that were constructed."

"Seven?" Legolas frowned. "And yet only three remained."

"Only three were seeded on this world," Felix replied. "The remaining four branches were interspersed within the ecosystems of four other worlds in the great tree, and as far as I was able to ascertain, they continue to evolve."

Legolas was about to speak again, but Tyrion interrupted him.

"I understand that this is important to you, Mister Legolas," he said. "But we have other pressing issues at present. If you don't mind?"

"Of course," Legolas nodded, sitting back. "My apologies."

"Felix," Tyrion went on. "You said that this planet has no actual name?"

"None that has been accepted by our particular societies, no." Felix replied.

"And you said that this is considered a Seedling World," Tyrion went on.

"Correct."

"And according to you, this world is watched over by a council of the Geiasians, right?" Tyrion went on.

"No," Felix replied. "The Seedling Worlds were under the control of one specific Geiasian, and were maintained for the purposes of experimentation. The Geiasian that was in charge of the specific world would report his or her progress to the High Council. The council would later evaluate and disperse the sentient beings based on their performances in this and other environments."

"And by performance you mean?" Xena asked.

"Intelligence, adaptability, and longevity," Felix nodded.

"And what about the ones that come up short?" Nicolla asked.

"They are removed and reordered," Felix continued. "In many cases, some attribute of the original template can be salvaged as the experimentation continues."

"Do you understand what you're saying Felix?" Mavon asked. "I mean, really? Do you really understand what you're saying?"

"Of course," Felix replied. "One of the major components of the evolutionary process is the arena of conflict, where the Natural Selection is the most efficient, hence the tendency of this world to be in conflict at repetitive intervals."

Tyrion rolled his eyes impatiently.

"Everyone!" he blurted. "Please shut the fuck up!"

There was a few uneasy looks, some uncomfortable squirming, but beside that, the tent fell silent.

"Thank you," Tyrion nodded. "You can bombard him with questions when we're done here." He turned back to Felix.

"Two things, Felix," he continued. "First, is there a way off this planet that can get us home?"

"Not that I have been able to calculate with any modicum of success," Felix shook his head.

"And now the big one," Tyrion rubbed his hands together. "Why were we brought here?"

"By 'we', I can assume you refer to ourselves, Xena, Gabrielle and the contingent of the Kajano?" Felix nodded.

"Yes," Tyrion folded his arms across his chest.

Felix seemed to go into a short trance, his eyes skittering back and forth slightly, as if reading his own thoughts.

"Resource variables had been exhausted. Adaptive aspects of all sentient and semi sentient life forms had reached a facsimile of maximum evolution within the parameters that had been previously established. Sentient growth and development had reached a plateau and fresh variables needed to be interspersed within the development matrices. It was hoped that the introduction of advanced aspects of current sentient beings may prove enough stimulus to spawn fresh independent development while maintaining the feasibility of the current experimental platform."

It was instantly apparent that a sense of outrage had overcome every individual in the room. Had Felix been any other person, the chances were that he would have been in a dire situation. As it was, there were several deep breaths.

"How do we get off this rock?" Tyrion asked in a raspy voice, laced with fury.

"That information was not available to me," Felix replied dutifully. "Since the Geiasians have no need for physical modes of transit, then the odds of such a means being available on this planet are less than optimal."

"Snow ball's chance in hell?" Mavon asked.

Felix nodded. "Correct."

"What can you tell me about the Crown of the Witch King?" Tyrion asked suddenly.

"The crown functions as a primitive neural focusing generator. It allows the wearer to control the semi sentient forces created for their use." Felix explained. "Earlier regressed elvishini lines required external means in order to maintain focus on a specified task."

"Regressed Elvishini," Legolas said tightly. "You refer to orcs, goblins, and other creatures of their ilk."

"I do," Felix nodded. "I apologize if any of this information offends you, but these are the facts."

"Okay Felix," Tyrion nodded. "It's okay."

Felix nodded.

"So, why would someone go to the trouble of stealing this crown from the vaults of Minas Tirith?" Tyrion went on after a few moments.

"As I said before," Felix replied. "The process of natural selection is best served in an atmosphere of conflict. The crown will be utilized to facilitate that."

"But that would mean that somewhere in Middle earth, an army has been bred!" Gimli blurted out. "Someone would have found something if that was the case!"

"With the remote location of the last breeding center, the possibility of being discovered was so remote as to be considered a non issue," Felix looked at the dwarf. "Local adversarial populations among the dwarodelf in that region have yet to rebound sufficiently to allow for such discovery."

At that statement, Gimli's eyes began to smolder. Felix frowned.

"I understand that I am discussing the current state of each of your populations and that the results of the last orchestrated conflict reduced regional populations significantly." He said.

"Orchestrated conflict," Gimli growled.

"If you find the revealing of these facts unpleasant, then why are you asking for them?" Felix finished, looking from one face to the other.

"It's tough to explain, Doc," Tyrion shrugged. He looked at Gabrielle and then back at Felix. "Will you excuse us for a few minutes, please?"

Felix nodded and Tyrion gave Gabrielle a nod to accompany him.

The young bard rose and escorted Felix away.

"Okay folks," Tyrion continued when he was certain the two were out of earshot. "Here's the plan."

Once away from the tent, Felix stopped and inhaled deeply. His breath emerged in wispy tendrils amidst the humid night air.

Gabrielle watched him closely.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

Felix nodded. Then he suddenly cocked his head sharply from one side to the other creating an audible cracking noise in his neck that caused Gabrielle to wince. Then she had to control her reaction as she saw for a moment, the familiar fire in Felix's eyes.

He looked back at the tent and sighed.

"I may still have information they can utilize," he said.

Gabrielle had to struggle to maintain her composure. "If they have more questions, I'm sure Tyrion will ask."

She studied Felix's expression for a moment and could almost sense a feeling of longing in his eyes.

"What are you thinking Felix?" she asked cautiously.

"It stands to reason that Tyrion and the others are still uncomfortable with my reconstitution," he nodded. "But I feel that Tyrion's decision to exclude me from the operation is not based on logical facts."

"And how does that make you feel, Felix?" Gabrielle asked.

"I am unable to reconcile the decision with the current situation," Felix replied.

"No," Gabrielle pressed gently. "How does it make you feel?" She paused and thought furiously. "What physical, um, sensations is this, um, information causing?"

He looked at her and she could almost see the emotional pain in his eyes.

"A slight increase of the pulmonary and respiratory systems, involuntary tightening in the lower core muscles, and mild spasming of the extremities." He offered in that same clinical voice.

Gabrielle shook her head. "In one word, Felix. Give me one word."

He frowned as his gaze shifted inward in a concentrated act of self study. After a moment, he looked at her.

"Annoyed."

Gabrielle could have cried out with joy but she didn't. She merely smiled and nodded.

"It's okay to feel that way Felix," she smiled. "I get it too sometimes."

He seemed to consider that. Then he nodded.

"Would you excuse me?" he asked. "I want to consider this state in private please."

"Sure," Gabrielle nodded. She backed away, barely containing a hopeful smile that made him frown as he beheld it. "I'm going to head over by the stream, if you want to talk more, okay?"

"Thank you," Felix nodded, and he turned and strode away.

A part of her wanted to follow after him, just to see what, if anything else might emerge during Felix's private contemplations, but she held herself in check and did as she had said she would.

Felix walked for a short time, his eyes paying no attention to the world around him as he studied this strange physical sensation. He was also accessing data in conjunction with this emotion, looking for parallels and resolutions.

Eventually, his feet ceased moving and he looked up to see the tent, glowing dimly amidst the other structures of the camp. This sight of it reawakened that strange sensation again, and this time he had to find a resolution.

The sensations associated with annoyance had been experienced by him countless times and he had reacted in many different ways to it. He studied the vast series of reactions, searching for a common variable.

Even as the rest of the team began to emerge from the tent, he found it.

He had been annoyed by many things, all of them negative in some way or other, and each one producing a unique response, but the responses, as different as they were, shared one thing in common. They each involved taking action to bring about a satisfactory resolution.

His eyes settled on the figure of Nicolla, walking back through the tents towards her own domicile, and they narrowed as he focused on her.

Tyrion and the rest of his friends did not trust him because of his current state. That state was in a condition of flux at the moment, but was happening too slowly for them to relate to him, and he would not be able to best utilize his full potential unless he was able to relate more directly with them.

His entire existence since his emergence from the sustaining cell had been an annoyance, he realized. The irrational and violent actions of Mavon upon his person had annoyed him. And now that he was beginning to understand the emotional state for what it was, beyond the physical discomforts, he did not appreciate – no, he didn't _like_ it. He didn't like it at all.

He turned and strode purposefully towards Nicolla's tent.

Nicolla turned quickly when she heard the step outside her quarters.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," Felix's voice drifted in. "Can I speak with you a moment?"

Nicolla looked down at herself, her top in her hands, and her pants in a pile against the far wall. She quickly slipped the top back on and made sure it went down past her hips, fulfilling the requirements of modesty, not that Felix, in his current state would have even noticed.

"Sure Felix," she said. "Come on in."

Felix ducked into the tent and faced her, his eyes sharp and intense.

Immediately, Nicolla sensed something emanating from him. She frowned, suddenly a bit uneasy at the way his eyes drifted up and down, taking in the sight of her.

"I find myself in a state of annoyance," he went on simply. "And I need to resolve it."

The trepidation vanished in a moment of surprise. "A state of annoyance?"

"Yes," He nodded.

She drew two folding chairs across from each other and gestured for him to take one as she seated herself in the other.

"That's actually good Felix," she smiled. "It means that you're beginning to re-assimilate your knowledge and experience already. This was what we were hoping would happen."

"I concur," Felix nodded, seating himself across from her. "And now that I have experienced the non logical aspect of it, I am forced to acknowledge certain shortfalls in the prescribed actions discussed earlier this evening."

Again, that flash of intensity in his features, filled with emotion. It made Nicolla catch her breath.

"We knew this would be a wild ride, Felix," she explained. "You just need to give it time, that's all."

Felix's expression was almost reptilian in its intensity now.

"A moderated cascade with watermarked triggers to break the recombination into faster stages would be possible if you used my mind as the organizing principle and yours as the initiator. The reordering of the physio-emotional balance would be accomplished in a matter of not more than eighty-six hours and would not require the sterile environment you described in the briefing."

"Moderated cascade?" Nicolla shook her head. "Watermarks? I've never heard of anything like," she didn't get a chance to finish.

In a quick motion, Felix had clamped his hands on either side of her face, his eyes boring into hers.

There was a sudden mental whirlwind and Nicolla was caught up within it before she even realized what was happening.

Somewhere in the maelstrom, she heard a familiar voice, laced with scorn as much as it seemed sincere.

"Sorry, Nicolla," it echoed around her. "I must fix this, and you're my only way."

Then the universe collided in a wild explosion of color, sound and life and she felt her mind engulfed by it even as she felt her body go limp.

The curiosity was killing her. Gabrielle sat on the edge of the stream, absently tossing pebbles into the gurgling water and forcing herself not to track down Felix. She smiled as she realized that she was going to get the second chance she thought she had lost. It may take time. Months, years, it didn't matter. Somehow, she was going to get the chance that she had been hoping for, even as she had been afraid of it.

A rustle in the foliage startled her out of her thoughts and her eyes darted to the nearby trees. Her hand drifted down to the sheathed alien weapon at her hip.

"Someone there?" she asked nervously. She rose to her feet and tried to peer through the deepening shadows and spy what had made the noise. The leaves were silent. No night creatures sang. Even the wind seemed to be holding its breath.

She drew the weapon out, feeling the reassuring coolness of the steel in her hand. Her fingers found the small contacts that controlled it, and the staff sprouted to its full length with a hiss and a crackle of energy.

"I know someone is there," she called aloud. "Come on out. I don't want to hurt you."

She should call for help, she should return to the camp and find Xena, or Tyrion, or anyone. For some reason, the rational side of her mind recognized this even as she stepped closer to the shadows, intent on trapping whatever had made the errant noise.

She thought she caught a subtle shift off to one side and her eyes followed the pseudo motion. She turned with the movement and dropped into a comfortable combat stance, ready to receive an attack if it was forthcoming.

Something crashed down on her head from off to her left, and the world vanished in a white hot flash of pain even as the staff dropped from her numbed fingers. She saw the stony ground rush up to meet her, barely recognized the sensation of striking it, and then she was eye level with the merrily bubbling stream.

She blinked, trying to remain conscious as she watched a shadow vault the narrow water and vanish into the deeper gloom.

"Xena," she tried to scream but only managed a quiet whisper before blackness took her.

Tyrion, Gimli, Legolas, and Eomer stood around a small table in the king's tent, staring down at an ancient map of Middle Earth.

They were trying to agree on the fastest possible route to use in pursuit of their quarry.

"I have never before traveled further north than the edge of the great Entwood," Eomer confessed. "I fear I know little of the lands you will enter, save what I have heard in legends and tales."

"If you want to my opinion," Gimli suggested gruffly. "Then your best course of action is to follow the road north, along the foot of the Misty Mountains until you reach the Mirrormere. From there you take the pass of Caradras west over the mountains and continue north until you reach the ancient ruins of Angmar!"

"I seem to recall some trouble the last time we tried the Red Horn Gate," Legolas countered.

"That was in winter!" Gimli shot back. "It's barely summer, and the autumn will not be upon us by the time we reach the pass. There is no danger of snow there! We should pass easily enough."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Tyrion nodded. "Will this pass handle horses?"

Legolas was about to answer but his gaze was suddenly drawn up and away from the map on the table and towards the entrance to their tent.

Nicolla stumbled in, looking dazed and pale, dressed only in her undergarments and her long shirt, one hand absently holding the side of her head.

"Lady?" Eomer asked in concern.

"I was in my tent," Nicolla said in a far away voice. "He wanted to talk to me, and I," she teetered dangerously.

"Nicky!" Tyrion rushed to her side even as she began to slump towards the ground.

He dropped to his knee and caught her neatly as she fell forward.

"I gotcha," he said softly. "I gotcha."

"He took," she managed to stammer as Tyrion held her close to him.

She suddenly smiled though her eyes remained closed. "This feels nice."

"He took what, Nicky?" Tyrion asked. "He who?"

She frowned. "Felix."

Tyrion gently lifted Nicolla from the ground and laid her down on the kings sleeping pallet. Her eyes fluttered open and locked on his for a moment and she smiled again.

"What happened, Nicky?" Tyrion asked.

"He didn't want to wait," Nicolla whispered. "He was annoyed and he didn't want to wait. Never knew anyone could do that before."

"Nicky," Tyrion snapped his fingers before her eyes a couple of times. "I need you to focus here, just for another second. What did Felix do?"

"He's coming back," Nicolla managed to whisper before her head rolled to the side and her eyes closed.

Tyrion looked down at her for a moment and then up at the king. "Can she stay here?"

"Of course," Eomer nodded.

Tyrion looked at Gimli and Legolas. "You! Find Xena and have her meet me at our tent," He said to the elf. Then he looked at Gimli. "You come with me."

The dwarf nodded.

Silas sat upright at the sound of Tyrion's voice.

"I need you," Tyrion finished.

"Yeah?" Silas blinked, rubbing his eyes.

"Search Nicky's tent, check her gear, weapons, ammo, the works," Tyrion ordered. "Meet us back in command, and find Mavon."

Legolas found Xena sitting near a campfire, conversing with of some of the elder soldiers of Rohan. He stepped up and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

"Excuse me, lady," he said quietly. "Master Tyrion needs your assistance."

She nodded and rose.

"What's going on?" she asked, but the elf's eyes were staring past her into the gloom.

"Legolas?" She asked.

Legolas's expression changed into something more alarmed and he suddenly bolted towards the stream.

"Hey!" Xena protested. "Wait up!"

Several other men also rose and followed the elf into the darkness, anticipating some form of action or other.

Legolas could see the young woman slowly moving as she lay near the stream.

He cried out in alarm when he realized who it was.

Gabrielle slowly pulled her self up onto her elbows, her head pounding. A groan escaped her lips.

She was dimly aware of footsteps skidding to a halt next to her then a smooth, strong hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.

"Gabrielle?"

She looked up into the concerned eyes of the elf, Legolas. He looked back towards the camp quickly.

"Xena!" he called. "Over here!"

More footsteps closed on her.

With Legolas's assistance, she managed to get to her knees despite the waves of dizzying pain ricocheting between her ears. Her hand came away from the back of her head, dark with blood.

Xena's arm settled gently across her shoulders.

"What happened?" Xena asked.

"What do you think happened?" Gabrielle retorted. "Someone hit me on the head."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Who?"

Gabrielle slowly shook her head. "I never saw his face. One minute I was moving towards the trees over there," She gestured feebly towards the nearby shadows. "The next, Zeus hit my head with a thunderbolt."

"Which way did he go, Gabrielle?" Legolas asked suddenly, scanning the opposite side of the stream.

"I don't know," Gabrielle replied tightly. She pointed in a general direction. "That way, I think."

Legolas adjusted his gaze and stared out into the deepening shadows.

Xena frowned as she watched him. She was just about to say something about the futility of his actions when he straightened.

"It's a single man. He has a bundle of things in his arms, running north along the nearer foothills of the mountains."

"You can see him?" Xena asked in amazement.

He looked back down at her and nodded grimly. "It's Felix."

He looked back at Tyrion who came jogging up out of the shadows. "He heads towards the foothills on the far side of Orthanc. We can overtake him if we give chase."

Tyrion knelt down and examined the bloody wound on the back of Gabrielle's head. It wasn't life threatening in any way, merely several small pressure cuts from the impact of whatever Felix had used to render her unconscious.

"Master Tyrion?" Legolas pressed.

Everyone fully expected Tyrion would agree with the elf and send the rest of his team off on the hunt.

"Let him go," Tyrion replied evenly. He reached into his small field kit and drew out a wad of pale cloth, dousing it in Identic Solution and pressing it against the scrapes on Gabrielle's head. She winced as the solution burned into the injuries.

"What?" Xena asked.

"Nicky is down and Gabby is down," Tyrion replied. "It's dark, and we're unfamiliar with the terrain." He looked at Legolas. "You might be able to see, but my people couldn't without help. We could get someone lost or hurt out there, stumbling around in the dark."

He took Gabrielle's hand and set it over the small pressure bandage on her head. Then he rose and stared out at the gloom, watching the deep purple shadows of the nearby mountains.

"In the morning," he finished. "Once we see where we are with Nicky and Gabs, and we can inventory and prep our gear, then we'll go after him."

"He is your companion?" Legolas pressed.

"Felix can take care of himself," Tyrion nodded. "We need to do the same for ourselves at the moment and he knows that." He looked back at Gabrielle. "I think that's why he bonked you kiddo. Just in case what he did to Nicky failed to slow us down."

"I never knew I was so important," Gabrielle replied as Xena helped her up to her feet.

Tyrion smiled. He looked at Legolas.

"Would you still be interested in joining us tomorrow?" He asked.

"Certainly," Legolas nodded. "I can take you through the entwood on paths that will halve the time it takes to go over the open rock of the foot hills. We should catch up your friend easily."

"Thanks," Tyrion nodded, looking around at the small group of soldiers. "Grab some rest boys. Show's over."

He turned and walked back towards the camp and his tent.

TBC

31


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Since Nicolla had already taken a bed in Eomer's tent, Gabrielle was brought there was well so the two of them could be cared for without moving from place to place. The tent of the king was more than large enough to accommodate them all, with tall posts holding the large canvas ceiling above and a thick covering of carpets upon the ground.

Eomer sat in his ornate wooden seat, his fingers absently stroking the whiskers on his chin as he looked from one injured woman to the other. His expression was one of deep, troubled contemplation.

Tyrion sat beside Nicolla, while Xena was seated next to a weak, but complaining Gabrielle. It had taken some surprisingly harsh words from Xena before the young bard reluctantly lay down and relaxed instead of trying to stay upright.

The only animate one in the tent was Mavon, who paced back and forth, simmering with frustration.

Tyrion's eyes followed the young, blonde haired man as he made another circuit across the entrance. They were waiting for a report from Silas, who was busy searching Nicolla's tent.

Mavon wheeled suddenly and glared at Tyrion. "I say we saddle up with as much firepower as we can carry and run the fucker down!"

"No!" Gabrielle cried in horror, though the volume of her protest caused her to wince in pain.

Mavon gave her a momentary glare and then re focused his attention upon his team leader.

"He was seen heading north," He said angrily. "The same direction that we're going to be heading and he attacked two fellow team members! He's probably hoofing it right to the bad guys to give them a full report!"

He paced a few more circuits before turning again. "The only thing we got working in our favor is the fact that he's so out of shape, he won't be able to keep a double time pace up as long as we do! But that doesn't mean we sit her on our asses and give him a huge head start!"

Again, Tyrion said nothing, his eyes locked on Mavon intently.

"He could set traps, sabotage our projected route, hell, he could find a few nice places and snipe us one by one, just for the hell of it!" Mavon continued.

"He wouldn't do that, Mavon," Xena shot back icily.

"You don't know that!" Mavon shot back.

Even Eomer observed the agitated man with concern. His fingers absently tapped the arm of his chair as we waited for the inevitable explosion of emotion that they all knew was approaching.

Mavon stopped suddenly, his eyes fixed on the tent entrance for a moment. He shook his head.

"Fuck it," He said suddenly. "I'll go take care of this shit!" He stalked towards the exit.

"Stand fast, Lieutenant!" Tyrion thundered as he stood up. His voice was so loud and commanding that everyone in the room started.

Mavon stopped like someone had pulled an invisible rope attached to his back. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Turn around!" Tyrion ordered.

Mavon turned and locked eyes with Tyrion. Almost involuntarily, Mavon straightened to attention under his dark gaze.

"You will stand down, Lieutenant," Tyrion said in a voice that was almost a growl. "You will remain in this camp and assist as needed prior to our deployment into the field. You will keep this bullshit attitude you've developed under the hatch and you will remain professional as long as we're in this theater, am I perfectly crystal clear?"

Mavon held the gaze for a moment and then looked down, nodding his head. "Yeah, I hear you."

"Am I clear?" Tyrion bellowed.

Mavon snapped to military attention, his eyes forward and locked. "Sir! Yes sir!" he replied sharply.

"Are you confused about anything else I've said, here, Lieutenant?" Tyrion asked.

"Sir, no sir!" Mavon replied.

"Any more pearls of wisdom you'd like to add to our current situation?" Tyrion continued.

"No sir!" Mavon replied.

"Get the fuck out of my sight before I slap you silly, you little shit." He finished, holding Mavon's eyes with a deadly stare of his own. "Find Silas and help him out, then report back here with him. Dismissed."

"Thank you sir," Mavon replied crisply. He stepped back, turned and exited the tent.

Tyrion took a deep breath as he turned back to Nicolla's bed side. He paused when he saw Xena and Gabrielle looking at him curiously.

"What?" He asked sharply.

"You really know how to bring him back into line," Xena said with a smile.

"I think it's kind of sexy myself," A weary voice added from the other bed. Tyrion saw Nicolla looking at him and smiling.

Tyrion stepped quickly by her side and sat back down next to her.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," She replied honestly.

Tyrion smiled. "What happened?"

"I got hijacked," Nicolla said. "Crazy bastard went into _my_ head."

"Nicky," Tyrion interjected. "Felix isn't a teller, he never has been."

"You don't know that," she countered. One hand rose and rubbed her temple as she closed her eyes. "Even if his old form wasn't rated, that doesn't mean his new improved self isn't, and I'm here to tell you that he's something."

"What did he do?" Tyrion asked.

"Remember when he talked about jump starting his emotional reconstruction?" Nicolla winced.

Everyone nodded.

"Well, that's what he did, but not the way he described to us." Nicolla explained. "He offered a passive solution, one where I would be in control of the action, resetting his emotional foundation, right?"

"I think I follow you," Tyrion shrugged.

"Well, what he didn't say was that he actually felt annoyed when we turned his plan down." Nicolla went on. "At least he told me he was annoyed, I can only assume he meant about our decision."

"That was what we whittled it down to when we talked after the meeting," Gabrielle concurred. "Then he asked me to leave him alone while he tried to understand the feeling. I didn't think anything of it, so I left him alone." She looked apologetically at the young telepath. "Sorry Nicky."

"No problem hon." Nicolla replied, slowly rising to a seated position. "How were you supposed to know?"

"I must confess," Eomer suddenly said aloud. "I have listened to your conversation for a time, and I find myself no wiser."

This elicited soft chuckles from the others.

"I'm sorry, sir," Nicolla offered. She seemed to be regaining her strength as she sat there. She took a moment to frame her words. "Felix, when he died, became part of a machine, you understand?"

"I believe so," Eomer frowned.

"Basically, Felix became part of a thinking machine," Nicolla continued.

"Thinking machine?" Eomer repeated.

"Yes," Nicolla replied. "I know the idea is a little strange to you, but in essence, for him to be a part of the machine I'm describing, he needed to lose all his emotions. He just dealt with facts, which was why it was so easy for him to tell us all the terrible details about your world and not bat an eye about it."

As she explained it, she watched as Xena helped Gabrielle up to a seated position.

"It's sort of like the way you honor the fallen after a war," Nicolla continued. "I'm sure you tally those who died and then lay them to rest, usually with some form of military honors, correct?"

"Of course," Eomer replied.

"Okay," Nicolla nodded. "In his current frame of mind, Felix would do the same thing, tally the dead for future records. But after that, his obligation ends. If he considers burying the dead, it would be as an afterthought, to avoid disease or any number of issues, and even then, he would dig a hole, toss them in, cover it and call it a day, period."

"Nicky," Gabrielle winced in disgust.

"That's the bare bones truth about Felix's current frame of mind," she continued. "He understands, he just doesn't care, about anything good or evil. That's what he wanted to get back, his ethics and his morals, if you will."

"And that was how he justifies attacking you and the Lady Sunmane," Eomer nodded.

"Nothing to justify, Highness," Nicolla replied. "They were a means to his end, though if his plan works, he'll be begging for forgiveness from the two of us for a long time."

Nicolla looked over at Gabrielle and some of the mischievous fire rekindled in her eyes. "I don't know about you, Gabs. But I plan on making the brat squirm a little."

Gabrielle smiled in spite of her discomfort.

Just then, Silas and Mavon walked into the tent.

"Report," Tyrion said simply.

"Well, boss," Silas replied. "Looks like Doc managed to grab a set of TAC gear, a sidearm and Nicky's AS-2, along with some mags and 4 M-67's."

"He grabbed my grenades too?" Nicolla gasped.

Mavon nodded. "Crazy bastard outfitted himself for a sniper deployment. Food, Ammo, and light demolitions. Nothing too big or bulky so he could move fast."

"You know," Tyrion looked sidelong at Gabrielle. "You two are perfect for each other. If you aren't swiping stuff and causing a ruckus, you're boyfriend is."  
Gabrielle opened her mouth to protest but saw the smile on Tyrion's face and blushed.

"I'm going to get you two a one week pass to the recreational center on Zaurus Four, just so the two of you can burn this bullshit out of your system." Tyrion finished. He looked back up at Silas and Mavon.

"So we do have a potential snipe stalking us," Mavon said with just a touch of sarcasm.

"I don't think so," Nicolla replied.

"Explain," Tyrion ordered.

"Felix is looking to get himself all the way back," Nicolla began. "When he came to me, he was annoyed because he wanted to help more, but he understood that he couldn't in his current frame of mind. I think he wants to fix that and get back with us as soon as possible."

"You think?" Mavon asked.

"Well," Nicolla shrugged. "I can't be one hundred percent certain. But I can tell you that there was nothing malicious about what he did to me."

"What?" Mavon blurted. "He knocked you on your ass, and then bonked Gabby's pot too! You're saying that wasn't malicious?"

"Like I said earlier," Nicolla replied coolly. "It was a means to an end and he won't understand it till the relevant emotional cues are reawakened."

"We have enough to worry about on the road ahead," Nicolla finished. "I don't think Felix will be one of those things though."

"Anything else missing?" Tyrion asked the big man.

"A pair of night vision glasses, data pad, and Nicky's com." Silas finished.

"He took the com?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"Yes sir, Master Chief," Silas nodded.

"Well," Tyrion mused. "That's something."

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully and then looked at the two wounded women. "You two going to be up to moving out tomorrow?"

Both of them nodded.

"Then, with your permission, sir," Tyrion nodded to Eomer. "We'll be leaving here tomorrow morning, at dawn.

"I'll order the troops of Gondor to stay with you and help with the security of your lands," Xena added. "My command was only temporary anyway."

"But oh so effective," Tyrion added with a quick smile. He looked at Gabrielle and Nicolla again. "Can you two walk? I think we've imposed upon the king enough for one night."

Both of them nodded and got to their feet.

"Okay," Tyrion finished. "Grab some shuteye then. We'll muster at dawn and head out as soon as we're ready."

The sound of his boots on the stone echoed around him as Felix moved further and further away from the camp and the fortress of Orthanc. Once the shallow valley had vanished beyond the stony hills, he stopped and began to organize his equipment.

In his mind, he began a five minute countdown. That was all the time he was allowing for this task.

In spite of his apparent escape, there was still a chance that Tyrion would not react according to character and allow someone to pursue him. Though the odds of this were not good, the possibility had to be acknowledged.

He would probably send Mavon, or at least, with his volatile personality, Mavon would be the most likely to volunteer and win the case to be the one pursuing him. And Mavon was an expert at guerilla warfare and a superior tracker. He was also relentless when it came to the pursuit of quarry. Nothing short of divine intervention would prevent Mavon from finding a target once he had discovered the trail. He was worse than a Tellian Blood Tracker.

Felix paused for a moment at that thought. The initial cascade must have begun, and as such, some of the more colorful euphemisms were beginning to appear, along with some basic root moral understanding. Then the mechanical aspect of his mind kicked in again.

"Tellian Blood Tracker," he said softly out loud. "Hairless quadruped life form indigenous to the planet Tellios. Average weight between eighty to one hundred and twenty pounds. Domesticated for tracking criminals and game animals on twenty five of the core Confederated worlds. Domesticated breeds utilized as pets in family units as well as private and governmental departments responsible for fugitive retrieval. Can be placid or feral depending on the type of training received in domestic environs, fierce and hazardous if cornered in the wild and relentless in the hunt regardless of environment."

He paused and stuffed some of the extra gear into his pack. "And damn ugly fuckers too."

He stopped again, looking down at the open pack at his feet as if the opinion had been uttered from within the container and not his own mouth.

It was too soon. He wasn't far enough away from the fortress to be secure enough for the first wave that he knew was rapidly approaching.

It was beginning to fast. Had he miscalculated in some way? He thought he had been meticulous in his planning. Now it seemed that the cascade had already begun. Like a small crack in a damn, the emotional pieces were beginning to flow and with them, the corresponding empathic attitudes.

"Not yet," he muttered as he struggled to finish organizing her gear. How much time had passed? He had lost track! He never lost track!

Suddenly, he was on his feet, running as fast as he could, encumbered as he was. He had no destination in mind, not even a general idea suddenly. He just knew he needed to be further away. Much further away.

Was this panic? He could feel the physical responses, his body moving like it were on air, his heart pumping more forcefully, getting oxygen and nutrients to the muscles he was utilizing in his exertion, and the rather blank aspect of his mind at the moment. All his being focused on one primal thought – escape! Yes, this was panic, and while the sensation was exhilarating in its own primitive way, his rational mind knew that it was also a non constructive line of thought.

"Maintain focus," he whispered aloud as his eyes scanned his surroundings. He blinked as he reflexively attempted to switch the spectrum for better visibility. Then he realized that his strange rebirth had returned his real eyes to him, complete with all their original faults and shortcomings.

According to his calculations, the initial controlled mental cascade was about to begin and he needed to find shelter quickly.

"Phase one mental reconfiguration with regards to emotional and empathic foundations should consume approximately three and one half hours while the basic fundamentals of personality and prerequisite social interactive variables are re- established in socio-emotional form…" he thought as he moved quickly among the rocks at the base of the mountain. "Side effects anticipated will be, communicative and cognitive regression, temporary confusion, unsubstantiated emotional states and hyper detailed mental recall of coinciding experiences. Allotted life experience span chosen for initial reset is years one through ten and its associated major events in chronological order."

He kept the machine calculating as he searched until he found a small outcropping of rock that offered shelter on three sides and effectively removed him from all but the most watchful and prying of eyes.

"Primary effects of initial phase will be irrational fear, panic, possible fight or flight autonomic response." His mind continued. "Recommend disassembly of primary weapons to prevent accidental discharge and possible injury." He sat down on his haunches and expertly broke down the rifle, slipping the pieces into his back pack. Next, he unloaded his pistol and locked the safety before returning it to the holster at his hip.

"Now we wait," he whispered to the cool night air. "Onset should begin at any moment."

He had planned his final reawakening carefully, going back to the first conscious events in his previous life and hoping to let the emotional and social lessons reassert themselves through essentially reliving his life up to the point he was killed. In this manner, with his experience broken down into small windows, he would effectively regress to the age progressions in his reconstruction. The one aspect of this that he was uncertain of, was is chronological age and the associated social maturity. If this first reset succeeded, he would regain consciousness with the mental attitudes and ideals of his youth, at approximately ten years. That meant that he would essentially be the ten year old boy, unarmed, lost in the wilderness of a strange planet. There was a chance that he could injure himself or fall victim to some indigenous predator.

It was risky, he knew, but he needed to get himself back into the operation and he knew he wouldn't be able to do it until he was able to function less as a data bank and more like them.

Even as he was considering this, he could feel it beginning in his mind, somewhere near the back of his head, the sensation of something rising from great depths began, and he felt the first of many sensations that all beings experience at the beginning of their lives.

The pain of his own birth heralded the onset of his rebirth, and with that memory came an overwhelming sense of terror. The machine portion of his mind fought furiously to rationalize the events he was recalling, but his life began to scroll behind his eyes and his current surroundings vanished from conscious perception even as his choked, gurgled cry broke from his lips.

The next thing he realized, he was lying on the warm stones. The air was filled with an acrid, unpleasant odor and he felt strange.

He opened his eyes and saw his hiding place a short distance away from him. How did he get here? And what was that bad smell?

He rolled over and sat up, rubbing his eyes. That was when he saw the dark stain running down the pale stones away from his body, and he felt the sensation.

"Ah man," he whined pitifully when he realized that he had actually lost control of his body during the event.

He was suddenly aware of an overwhelming sense of shame and he actually began to cry.

"Well, that's not going to help," A voice said from somewhere behind him and he wiped the tears away and looked back.

The figure was dressed like he was and even looked like he did, but it wasn't really him, it wasn't really there. Felix looked up at it and then down at himself again.

"I had an accident," he said pitifully.

"Yes," the figure replied. "This was not unanticipated. However, sitting there in your own feces is not going to help the situation, is it?"

"Who are you?" Felix asked.

"Who do you think I am?" The figure replied. "Go down to that stream and clean yourself and your clothes off."

Meekly, Felix obeyed, pausing every few steps to look back and make sure the other figure was still there.

He got down to the small stream at the foot of the hill and paused, looking around.

"What's the matter?" the strange apparition asked.

"Someone might see," Felix replied sheepishly.

"No one will see you," the figure replied.

"How do you know?" Felix asked.

"We don't have all day!" the figure countered a little sharply. "You can get cleaned up or walk in your own crap, I don't care, but get moving!"

Frowning, Felix looked down at himself and considered for a moment. He didn't want to walk through the woods and smell bad, and it didn't feel good at any rate.

"Today, young man!" the figure barked. "Come on."

He knew he had to hurry, but he couldn't remember why. Still, the water was very cold and he didn't like sitting on the rocks as he cleaned himself off. Then he turned his clothing inside out and let the current push through the fabric, cleaning off the mess within.

"Maybe this was a stupid idea," he muttered. "I feel yucky."

"Then it's working," the figure behind him replied. "As long as you're feeling something."

He made a face and tried to ignore the chilly sensation of the water flowing over him. Then he dunked all the way down up to his neck and back again, scrubbing quickly.

"Let's get going." The figure persisted.

"I have to wait till this stuff dries," Felix protested.

"No time," the figure replied. "Get dressed and let's get moving."

Scowling, Felix complied, wringing his clothes out as best he could and then squirming back into them.

"Don't forget your things," the figure instructed. The voice was familiar, strong, filled with a sense of command.

He looked back up at the apparition, and for the first time, saw the subtle differences in the facial features, so like his, and yet also unique.

"Daddy?" he asked.

The figure nodded. "Get going kiddo. No time to waste."

Felix went back to his hiding place, giving the mess he had left on the stones a wide berth.

He gathered up his stuff and set the pack back on his shoulders. Then he looked expectantly at the familiar figure of his father.

The man nodded once and turned, pointing in the necessary direction.

"Just go that way till it starts getting dark. Then find a place to camp." He instructed. "And don't forget to stop for lunch on the way."

"Okay," Felix replied a little uncertainly. He began picking his way across the shingle along the mountains.

"Get moving!" His father called from behind him. "You only have a few hours before the next one hits!"

He frowned at that. "Next what?"

When he turned back, the strange memory had vanished, replaced with a sense of sadness and loss. Then he remembered, his father had died before his twelfth birthday. Something like a sigh escaped his lips, filled with sudden remembered pain, and he sullenly turned his back on the site and trudged doggedly on.

He continued on his way as the sun rose hot in the sky. Around mid day, he finally gave in to his desire to rest and trudged down the hills to the trees lining the edge of the forest, there he sat down and took shelter beneath the cool eaves of the thick oak trees.

He took a long drink from his canteen and looked around at the empty wilderness around him. The birds were singing in the boughs above him and the breeze rustled through the branches sending sparkly sunlight through the leaves in quick golden shafts. He smiled. This was like being on an adventure, out in the wild, exploring the forest and the mountains.

Something in the back of his mind clicked and the sudden youthful exuberance was suddenly replaced by an overwhelming fear of being watched.

His eyes scanned the forest behind him and the looming grey jagged rocks before him, now filled with the paranoid sense of being perceived.

"The next one?" His mind wondered idly as his hand drifted to his side arm.

Suddenly, the concern exploded behind his eyes in a ringing fountain of white hot pain.

With a cry he fell to his side, his hands clasped against the side of his head. The sensations of trauma and anxiety covered his very being, washing his soul in anxiety, elation, lust, and love. Images from his adolescence flooded through his subconscious, some of them hardening into crystal clarity while others seemed to evaporate leaving only a vague sensation of disjointed emotions.

He remembered his first love, his first fight, the face of his first girlfriend, and the sensations of his first sexual encounter, all of it flooded back into place in his mind with painful clarity. The universe around him dissolved into a swirl of color and sound echoing between his ears.

Then, just as quickly, it faded into darkness and he knew no more.

When he returned to consciousness this time, he felt heavy, almost leaden. He lay under the boughs of the tree, with brilliant fiery sunlight flickering between the branches. His head was ringing incessantly and he had a churning sensation in his stomach, almost as if he had been drinking the night away and it had finally caught up with him.

He rolled over and groaned, blinking away the spots before his eyes. Looking about, he realized that the sun, which had been in late afternoon when he had stopped, was now rising in red splendor from the east. The night had come and gone without him knowing it.

"_Second series, window from ages ten to twenty-five and all associated experiences. Approximate time for re assimilation – sixteen hours."_

"Son of a bitch," he muttered as he got to his knees and took stock of his surroundings.

His head still throbbed as he moved about. Memories rose and fell like waves.

_He stood in line with hundreds of other recruits, his deep navy colored uniform was pressed and neat, his shoes polished to a shimmering luster._

_The man walking before him was dressed in a similar uniform, distinguished from his only by the rank insignia that marked him as a colonel and quite a few more decorative medals and ribbons. Behind him, another officer, a captain, followed a few paces back and to the outside, allowing his superior room to inspect the troops._

_He paused and stared at Felix critically for a moment._

"_Weapon," he ordered._

_Felix snapped the weapon up to inspection and extended it with a quick gesture, his eyes stayed locked forward, not daring to move._

_The officer inspected his firearm with expert ease and then extended it again._

"_Good job, soldier," he said simply._

"_Sir, thank you sir," Felix replied smartly._

"_What's your name, son?" The colonel asked._

"_Private First Class Felix Malone, colonel, sir," He replied._

"_And your unit?" The colonel asked._

"_Two hundred and eighty first High Strikers, Colonel, sir," Felix replied smartly, and this time he let a touch of pride enter his voice._

"_How old are you, soldier?" the colonel frowned at the mention of the elite unit._

"_Nineteen, colonel, sir," Felix replied._

"_How long have you been in the service?" He went on._

"_One year, colonel," Felix replied._

"_You qualified for the elite striker unit in your first year, Private?" The colonel asked in surprise._

"_Sir. Yes I did sir." Felix replied._

"_I don't think anyone has ever qualified, let alone completed striker training in their first year," The colonel mused._

"_Sir," The Captain said dutifully. "Private Malone is the first to do so."_

"_Really?" The colonel looked at Felix with renewed interest. For the first time, something that lent itself to be a smile touched the stern features. "Well done, Private."_

"_Thank you sir," Felix replied._

_The colonel and his aide moved along and the image faded away._

Felix blinked and looked down at his gear. The pieces of his rifle lay in a neat bundle at the top of his sack and the disarmed pistol hung at his hip.

Felix pulled the parts out and set them down on the ground. Then he removed his cleaning kit and began to clean the parts thoroughly before snapping them back together. He loaded the clips in both weapons and felt the reassuring tingle of safety as he returned his primary means of defense to readiness.

Looking about him he began a moderate, almost casual jog up along the rocky foothills, seeking a better vantage point of his surroundings.

He found a large, wide shelf an hour later, facing east and overlooking the undulating mass of brilliant green leaves that made up the ceiling of the forest.

Standing near a large boulder, he looked about at the forest, and frowned when he caught the sight of something rising from beneath the foliage.

It shone a wet, deep gray against the green, and seemed to rise at a jagged angle, like a large broken tooth.

Quickly, Felix raised his spotters' glasses to his eyes and focused in on the anomalous structure. In the enhanced image he could make out the broken stones of a single massive, circular tower. The top most five floors had been exposed to the elements as the outer wall had fallen away. The grounds surrounding it seemed to have been cleared at one point, now slowly being reclaimed by the forces of nature. Still, from this perspective, he could make out very little.

Frowning, he drew his com out and affixed it to his ear.

"Striker Seven, Alpha Four Two, copy?" he called over the channel. There was only the hiss of the open channel in response. He frowned.

"Striker Seven, Alpha Four Two, do you copy?" he called again.

In one body, the entire party stopped abruptly as the voice echoed over the coms.

Tyrion's hand instinctively reached up for the coms switch, but Nicolla stepped quickly forward and stayed it, shaking her head emphatically.

"Don't." She ordered softly.

"But its Felix," Silas said.

"Yes it is," Nicolla nodded.

At the mention of his name, Gabrielle and Xena also perked up.

"Felix?" Gabrielle asked. "Where?"

She dug quickly through her bag and found the com unit, fumbling it as she tried to get the ear piece in place.

Nicolla waved her hand commanding silence. "I have to play this right, so everyone zip it!" she hissed.

"Striker Seven, Alpha Four Two do you copy?" Felix's voice echoed again.

Gabrielle's breath stopped at the sound of that familiar voice.

"Nobody say a thing, got it?" Nicolla looked quickly at everyone. She nodded and then took a deep breath before she hit the com switch.

"Striker Seven, Alpha Four Two, go," she replied calmly.

Gabrielle frowned, looking over at Tyrion. She mouthed the words "Striker Seven," and shrugged.

Tyrion nodded and raised a hand, begging patience.

"Striker Seven," Felix replied. "I have an unmapped structure at grid seven nine, by four, four, approximately three kliks east of the foothills. Request air recon and thermal on same, possible enemy command structure."

They all exchanged looks. "He must mean Dol-Guldor," Legolas offered. "Its broken tower can still be seen above the trees, if he is high enough among the foothills."

Nicolla hissed angrily, commanding silence.

"Striker Seven," she then said calmly. "Alpha Four Two has no assets in that area, repeat, no assets in that area. Maintain recon status from current local and initiate com silence except in case of engagement, confirm."

"Striker Seven confirm, out." Felix replied and the channel went dead.

Nicolla sighed and took the com unit from her ear.

"Okay," Mavon began. "What the fuck was all that Striker shit?"

"Striker Seven," Tyrion nodded. "That was his dez when he was with the two eighty-first."

"Dez?" Gabrielle asked.

"Designation," Silas explained. "His dez number in the fire support team was seven, meaning he was seventh in the twelve man group. Striker Seven."

"And Striker?" Xena asked.

"The Two Eighty-First was a special strike squad trained for incursion and suppression tasks, specially trained for large scale covert ops. Their nickname was the High Strikers because they would chute in from high altitudes, usually behind enemy lines, and secure forward positions."

"Chute?" Legolas asked.

"That part would take some explaining," Tyrion smiled. He looked back over at Gabrielle. "Remember his little stunt back in Minas Tirith?"

Gabrielle nodded. "When he jumped off that cliff?"

Tyrion nodded. "Chute."

Gabrielle nodded.

However, now it was Silas's turn to be confused.

"Chief," he said. "Doc hasn't been a Striker for years. Not since Mintaka Drift. Why is he calling us like he's on an op, and using his old dez?"

"Because that's where he is at this point, I guess," Nicolla replied.

Gimli and Legolas exchanged a glance.

"And where is that, exactly?" The dwarf asked.

"In his controlled cascade," Nicolla replied. "He said the total time he would need would be about four days, and we're on day three. I'd say he's right on schedule."

"But he's got to know that he was never on an op here," Mavon asked. "Why is he acting like he is?"

"You have to realize," Nicolla explained. "He's in the process of reliving and re-experiencing emotions and events that he had stored in his mind as basic information. Even though he's not in the same environment, his mind will compensate for it by applying real world events into his remembered ones. Once the cascade is complete, the emotional aspects of his experiences will be returned to normal and his mind will settle those inconsistencies naturally as he recalls our recent events here."

"That clears everything up," Gimli grumbled.

"If Master Felix is within sight of Dol-Guldor," Legolas offered. "Then he may be in great danger."

"How so?" Tyrion asked.

"Though the dark lord that dwelt there has long since gone, there still live many dark and sinister creatures in those woods. Even in the latter years of my father's rule, there were portions of Mirkwood that we would dare not enter. The memories are very evil and that kind of evil does not fade with time. It is even said that the children of Ungoliant still dwell within those woods. Dark and hideous monsters who hunger for living flesh."

"Oh, lovely," Mavon groaned.

"And the Dimmril Stair is also nearby to the west," Gimli added. "Who knows what creatures live in Khazad Dum these days."

"Well," Tyrion replied. "We can't do anything for him now. But at least he's reached a point in his little mind trip where he can protect himself."

Felix removed the com unit and sighed, looking down at the strange structure. He frowned.

"They must be on the move if they're calling for coms silence," he offered.

"Sounds like," A familiar voice answered easily.

"Without recon, anyone moving through this grid will have no idea what to expect," he mused. He was slightly surprised when he perceived a response to his musings.

"You're thinking we should go in that place and check it out, ain't ya." The voice was smooth, confident, with a touch of accent and arrogance.

The figure kneeling next to him and staring out through his own spotter glasses was lean and well built, of medium height, with tan skin and smooth, handsome, young features. A thin, narrow line of whiskers traced the area around his mouth, almost like the goatee had been drawn on instead of simply trimmed down. His golden brown eyes blinked when he removed the glasses.

"That's an awfully big place to be sneaking around, Rigger," The man smiled.

"Ricco," Felix smiled. "How many places like that have we snuck in and out of before?"

"Those were on demolitions jobs," Ricco smiled. "And you went in." He gestured to Felix and then himself. "Rigger and trigger, remember?"

"You know," Felix smiled. "On your crypt it's going to read, 'Here lies Ricco Alvarez. He had an argument for everything.'"

"Fuck you twice," Ricco chuckled.

Felix indicated the broken walls of the tower. "We don't need to go onto the grounds. Just skirt the edges and see what we can see. There may be some ordinance, or a mine field, and we can disarm them as we go. That way, if the operation does push through this area, they won't start setting off anti personnel devices."

"Or turn the A.P. stuff against the ones who planted them," Ricco nodded.

"Yup," Felix replied, raising the glasses again. "Without recon from the air, that's the only option left. Hell, we've dealt with worse. The troops will need that intel."

"I'm not gonna be able to talk you out of this, am I?" Ricco sighed.

"Not on your best day, my friend," Felix clipped the glasses back on his belt, shouldered his pack and checked his weapons. "Come on."

Felix jogged down the hill and vanished into the thick foliage.

The tower vanished behind a thick shadowy curtain of leaves as he descended into the woods. He moved quickly and cautiously towards his intended target, his weapon out and pointed forward, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any threat.

Nothing moved in the wood. The ancient ash and oaks loomed over him with gnarled leafy hands reaching out over his head, blotting out the sun.

The air was thick with an earthy scent, and the breeze whispered between the trees.

He stopped suddenly and blinked. Looking behind him, he found that he was alone.

That was right. Ricco had died on Mintaka Drift, under the guns of the dreaded Kajano.

It was as if that stray thought unleashed a torrent of horror in his mind.

The world dissolved into the chaos of that engagement as his entire unit, some two hundred men, ran boldly to their deaths in the brutal conflict.

_The forest vanished and he saw the blasted and burnt corridors of the drift, awash in shadows, except for the flash of weapons fire or the occasional short circuit._

_His brothers were screaming in horror or mad rage, firing wildly at the shadows as they struggled to fend off the inevitable slaughter._

_Bodies around him were rent into unrecognizable shreds or blasted by brilliant blue explosive bursts, then yanked clear by invisible hands, never to be seen again._

_The air was filled with acrid smoke and the stench of blood._

_Then he saw it, materializing before him in the smoke like a massive armored behemoth. The yellow eyes flashed as the cannon on its shoulder swiveled toward him._

"_Ricco!" He shouted as he raised his weapon and fired._

_There was a cry beside him as Ricco raised his own weapon. The beast recoiled, there was a flash, and the world went white as searing heat washed over his exposed flesh._

_Something wet splashed across his face and arms. He knew instinctively that it was blood. The white pain faded to blackness even as the sounds continued. He was blind. His weapon had fallen from his grasp. He heard the cries of the few survivors drawing away from him as they attempted to retreat to the landing craft._

_He cried after them, begged them not to leave him behind, but they couldn't hear him. His hands felt around him through god knew what, for a weapon of any kind. He was blind, unarmed, and alone in a station filled with bloodthirsty hostiles._

_The sounds of battle faded away, leaving only the noise of him scrabbling desperately among the dead and dismembered companions that lay around him. Something nearby hissed as it burned, emitting an electric stench. _

_Then he heard it._

_The growl was soft, low, almost like a fast series of clicks. He heard a soft hum as something powered on, and felt the heat of a target laser on his cheek._

_He froze as the inevitability of his fate settled over him like a choking cloud. Were those sobs coming from his throat, or just ragged panicked gasps from his blind hunting?_

_Huge fingers wrapped about his throat and lifted him from the ground with a terrifying sudden wash of sensation. He tried to stretch to reach his feet to the floor, but it was gone. The air moved. Something was very close to his face, studying him closely, and that horrible growl issued again just in front of his nose._

_Then a sudden moment of disorientation, a sensation of floating, the world churned in his belly and he crashed into something…_

"Ricco!" Felix cried as the world crashed back into view around him. His heart was racing and his breathing was ragged. For a minute, he didn't know where he was and that only fed his terror. All around him, the trees bore the smoking scars of weapons fire.

The barrel of his weapon was still smoking and there was an incessant voice ringing in his ear.

"Striker Seven!" it called. "Respond! What is your situation?"

He yanked the intrusive com from his ear and disconnected it.

What the hell was he doing here? Where was he supposed to be going?

He looked about at the deepening shadows and a sense of unfounded alarm began to creep through his gut. Many of the larger trees had what looked like sheets of pale undulating webs stretched between them.

"I do not want to be in these woods after dark," he muttered aloud. "Damn freaky enough fucking place in the daylight."

He turned around, heading back west at a pace that almost qualified as the panic he had so freely expressed mere hours before.

"Felix," He chided himself. "This was a really bad fucking idea."

He was close to the edge of the forest, he knew it. Just a little further and he would be out. He would be safe.

Then the blinding pain hit and he stumbled, falling to the ground in a heap and trying to hold back the screams as his life once again reasserted itself in his mind.

"_Final series, window from ages twenty-five to present and all associated experiences. Approximate time for re assimilation – ten hours."_

"He broke contact!" Nicolla cried in alarm.

"That was gunfire!" Silas added. "And a lot of it! Sounds like the boy is in a mess of shit!"

"I can't raise him," Nicolla shook her head as she attempted to re establish contact.

They had traversed the meandering paths through the woods for three days and two nights, heading towards the edifice of Dol-Guldor and had not seen any sign of Felix since the last communication.

"The sounds came from that direction," Legolas offered, pointing ahead.

"He may need help!" Gabrielle added.

Tyrion nodded. "Safeties off." He nodded to Legolas. "Lead the way, double time."

"Of course," Legolas nodded and he darted off through the woods.

They were forced to slow their movement after a few hours because the light had faded, and the shadows under the boughs of the trees had deepened around them.

Finally, the light was all but gone.

Xena stumbled after the party almost blindly in the shadows. The tiny red indicator lights on the weapons of Tyrion's people were the only light she could make out.

Something soft and ethereal pressed against her face and she flinched in alarm. Behind her, she heard Gabrielle give a little startled gasp as she encountered the strange object.

"Legolas," She heard Tyrion whisper. "Hold up a second."

She almost bumped into Nicolla when she finally stopped, and felt Gabrielle crash into her from behind with a squeak of fright.

"Si," Tyrion whispered. "How many sets of NV goggles have you got?"

"I got five, boss," Silas's voice rumbled off to Xena's right.

"Break them out," Tyrion ordered. "Spare set to Xena."

Gabrielle almost wept at the last part of that order.

There were sounds of shuffling hands and the flapping of the cloth cover on a pack, then they all heard the high pitched whine of something powering up.

A soft green glow emerged from the shadows, barely perceptible, but distinct. It turned and Gabrielle saw two pale green luminous lenses peering at her like demonic eyes.

One by one, more green eyes faded into view.

"Sorry Gabs," Nicolla whispered as she moved closer to the anxious bard.

There were several heavy footsteps as Silas stepped closer to Xena and Gabrielle. There was another pop and a whine.

"Alright Xe," Silas's voice rumbled in the darkness. "Just slide these puppies on."

Xena looked down at the pair of glowing goggles dwarfed in Silas's meaty hand. She raised them to her eyes and slipped the flexible band over her head. The world faded into view, hued in varying shades of pale to deep green. The trunks of the ancient trees faded into darkness, but she could see.

"Okay," Tyrion said. "Who can't see?"

"Me," Gabrielle volunteered.

Off to her left she heard the dwarf, Gimli, grumble something unintelligible.

"Mister Gimli?" Tyrion asked.

"I don't see why we can't just stop for the night," The dwarf repeated his soft complaint of a moment before. "What's the point of blundering into every low hanging branch and root when we could move more quickly in the daylight."

"We have a lot of ground to cover," Tyrion replied. He paused for a moment. "Xena, you stay with Gabs, Nicky, would you please accompany our friend Gimli here?"

"Of course," Nicolla replied sweetly.

"We must move on," Legolas offered. "It is not safe to stay in one place for too long here."

"Oh?" Mavon asked.

"Though the Dark Lord is gone, they say that creatures from his stronghold still roam amongst the trees."

"Um, creatures?" Mavon asked. "That whole children of Uglynut, or whatever?"

"Ungoliant," Legolas corrected. "An evil beast. She was the creature who poisoned the trees of the Valar in the Elder Days. Her children were spawned across Middle Earth, living amidst the woods and mountains of foul lands. It was said that Shelob was a pet to Sauron, and guarded the pass of Cirith Ungol."

"Uh, Leg?" Mavon asked. "Do you understand that we have no idea what the hell you're talking about?"

"Perhaps that is well," Legolas replied softly. "If you did know what we truly faced…"

"Thank you, Legolas," Tyrion cut him off. There was a sudden flare of a small flame, and Gabrielle smelled the tell tale scent of tobacco. The soft orange glow bounced up and down as Tyrion spoke.

"Gabby and Gimli in the middle of the formation," Tyrion continued. "Mister Legolas, if you would lead the way, the rest of us, defensive formation, weapons hot."

Gabrielle started when she heard the series of metallic snaps as weapons were primed.

It took a while for Xena to adjust to the narrow field of vision that the night vision goggles presented. As she moved through the trees, she noticed Tyrion and the others constantly turning their heads this way and that, and she discovered that by emulating this behavior, she was able to view more of her surroundings as they traveled.

She felt Gabrielle's fingers gripping tightly on her forearm, and she gave her a reassuring pat.

"We're okay Gabrielle," she whispered and she felt the grip lesson a bit.

With her vision obscured, Gabrielle felt her other senses sharpening. To pass the time she began to try and differentiate between the sounds of the various people around her.

Immediately to her left she could hear the heavy tromp of Gimli's armored boots, and beyond that, the softer footfalls of Nicolla.

Behind and to her left, she heard Mavon's long, confident strides, and directly behind, the slightly heavier footfalls of Silas.

Xena strode confidently on her immediate right, and just ahead of her, she heard Tyrion's steps. She watched the glowing tip of his lit cigarette bounce slightly like a will-o-the-wisp, just before her, and beyond that…

"Where is Legolas?" she asked quietly. "I can't hear him?"

"I am here," the elf replied quietly ahead and too her left. "I shall not abandon you."

She frowned, trying to discern any sound from the direction of the elf's reply and, try as she might, she could hear no sound of his footfalls on the leafy earth.

Then she heard a soft scuffling of numerous feet further out and to their left. Her head snapped in that direction and her fingers tightened on Xena's forearm.

"What was that?" she asked in a hiss.

At the same moment, Nicolla said quickly. "Movement ten o'clock, thirty yards."

Xena looked in the general direction and saw the subtle shift in the deeper green as something scooted out of view.  
"Four o'clock, twenty five yards," Silas rumbled behind her.

"Weapons ready," Tyrion breathed.

Xena watched as each member of Tyrion's team raised their rifles, tucking the butts into their shoulders and pointing them purposely out in the direction they were covering.

"Kajano?" Mavon offered hopefully as his head swiveled back and forth.

As they continued forward they began to see long billowing waves of soft, wispy material undulating in the breezes they created as they moved.

"What the fuck is that?" Mavon commented as they passed a particularly thick curtain of the stuff.

Xena saw him reach a tentative hand towards the stuff and touch it.

"Feels like a crawlon's web," he commented.

"Um," Gabrielle asked timidly. "What's a crawlon?"

"A little critter with eight legs and a chunky body," Mavon replied.

"Like a spider?" Gabrielle shuddered. "I hate spiders."

"Cool it," Tyrion whispered. "Just keep moving."

Something scuttled past them again, causing Gabrielle to start as she heard the sound. It was much closer this time. Closer and faster.

"What was that?" she hissed.

Then another series of quick scuttling noises behind them.

"Watch your zones," Tyrion said quietly. "Shoot to kill."

"Like I wasn't going to?" Mavon replied.

The sounds of scuttling legs suddenly rose in a flurry of sound, all around them, and then just as quickly, it vanished.

"Hold up," Tyrion ordered.

Before the party was a wide white curtain of the silky material stretching across several massive trees.

"We must be gone from here, now," Legolas hissed.

"You think?" Mavon replied.

"Pull back slowly," Tyrion ordered. "We'll go around this."

"Anyone see anything?" Nicolla asked nervously as she scanned the woods around them.

The silence was absolute, punctuated by several soft, deep breaths. And the occasional crunch of twigs or branches under their feet.

Gabrielle turned her head from right to left, listening with her entire being for any alien sounds.

Slowly the group began backing away from the strange barrier.

"Anyone seeing anything?" Mavon asked.

"I got nothing," Nicolla replied nervously. "But I heard them."

"Just keep moving," Tyrion added.

"I have a bad feeling about this," Xena whispered.

They all heard something rustle above them and as one, they stopped.

Silas looked up into the boughs above and saw them gazing coldly at them through countless pale eyes. Thick bulbous bodies hung by long clawed furry spindly legs. The fangs in the grotesque faces flicked back and forth, dripping with venom.

"Oh shit," he growled.

"Cover!" Tyrion ordered.

The weapons flared and popped as dozens of the massive creatures fell upon them, frothing and hissing hungrily.

Gabrielle was flung to the ground, with Xena atop her.

In the brilliant flashes of automatic weapons fire, she caught glimpses of the things dropping from the shadows. Sprays of viscous fluids rained down upon them as the first several creatures were riddled by the onslaught.

She caught the flash of Xena's sword stabbing upward into the cluster of red eyes in the face of a creature. There was a deafening chorus of inhuman shrieks from the stricken monsters. Then suddenly, she felt Xena ripped from the air above her with a startled cry.

"Xena!" Gabrielle screamed.

One by one the brilliant fire of the weapons vanished.

"Gabby?" Nicolla shouted. "Where are…" Her voice was cut off by a quick shriek.

Somewhere in the darkness, she heard Tyrion bellowing in defiant rage as his weapons thundered and then he was suddenly gone.

Terror washed over her and she let loose a full throated scream.

Then she felt something pierce the flesh of her leg. The fire pulsed through her body as the venom entered and she felt the sickening narcotic sensation as it overwhelmed her consciousness.

The last thing she remembered was a sensation of floating and the final cessation of the weapons in the night, then nothing.

Felix rolled over quickly and sat up, his entire being focusing on the distant sound of gunfire. Lot's of gunfire. Amidst the noise, he also heard screams.

"Oh shit," he gasped. "They did come after me."

He fumbled in his pockets until he found his com and crammed it into his ear.

"Chief? Chief! Come in!" He called over the channel. "Chief! Nicky! Silas! Anyone!"

The horror of the situation swept over him even as he rapidly strapped his gear on his body and began running towards the action as fast as his semi steady feet would carry him.

Images of his friends lying dead amidst chaos bombarded his mind. He saw each of their faces in expressions of terror just before the end. He saw Gabrielle's face.

It took a moment for him to realize that the gunfire was subsiding. He skidded to a halt when a terrified scream cut through the trees. Gabrielle's cry echoed in rising fear and then stopped suddenly. The forest fell silent once more.

"Ah shit, Gabby" he muttered. He keyed the com again. "Someone answer me dammit!"

There was a moment, just a moment, when the despair almost overwhelmed him before something else overcame it.

The emotions, the desires, everything he was, everything he had been, it was all back.

He felt the sudden elation even as the horror of his situation remained.

"It fucking worked," he whispered as he tried to repress a smile. Even as he forced his mind to focus on the mater at hand, he couldn't help but revel in the sensations he had been missing.

At the same time, his inability to quell the sensations of achievement was hampering his ability to think. The trees before him were larger, thicker, and blocked out the dimming moonlight. The ones around him were little better.

He checked his weapons. The massive AS2 was impractical in his surroundings because of its bulk.

He pulled the night vision goggles over his eyes and drew his pistol feeling the reassuring sensation as it slid comfortably into his hand.

He scanned the surroundings and felt the blood beginning to pump through his body in anticipation. Whatever had taken the chief and his friends out had to have been big. Either bigger than they could handle or a lot more of them than they could handle.

In either case, stealth was the order of the day.

"Calm your emotions," he whispered to himself. "Be the machine again, just for a little while."

He quickly affixed four grenades to the hooks on his vest, checked the charge on his pistol, made sure the rifle and backpack were secured. Staying low, he began moving quickly through the trees towards the site of the battle.

The forest around him was alive with subtle night noises as he moved quickly and quietly among the trees, his goggled eyes scanning left right and up as he moved.

He could feel the air becoming more stagnant and stuffy as he went further into the shadows. It was as if the wind itself did not want to move through this place.

The trees became ever more gnarled and ancient, with long trailing beards of pale lichen and shimmering tendrils of cobweb floating like wisps of cloud.

Eventually he began to see the tell tale signs of weapons fire. Several trees began to show the obvious scarring of the plasma bolts from his weapons. Small fires still smoldered in the pits left by the explosive energy. The scent of the woods was mingled with the acrid smell of smoke.

"Getting close now," he whispered to himself.

His finger settled gently on the trigger as he moved with more deliberation.

He found the place a few minutes later. It was obvious from the damage to the trees all around the small clearing, that this had been the site of their last stand.

A single object in the center of the space caught his attention and he crept forward, watching the boughs above for any sign of movement.

He knelt down and picked up the discarded MP9. The side and grip were shining in the pale green luminescence, and he absently hoped it wasn't blood covering the casing.

He backed out of the clearing the same way he had come and paused at the base of a large, twisted oak tree.

Another check of his surroundings and he holstered his pistol, quickly checking the rifle.

He instantly knew that rifle had belonged to Mavon. His partner habitually taped two energy clips together, allowing him to eject the spent clip, flip it over and immediately plug in the fresh one.

There were five shots remaining on the primary clip, and the second one had not been fired yet, a full two hundred rounds worth of power.

Felix loaded the full clip and extended the rifle butt fully, slipping the nearly empty clip into his thigh pocket.

He felt a little more confident with his preferred, more compact and powerful weapon back in his hands.

"Okay, okay," he whispered, bringing the weapon back up. "Progress. Now, which way did they take you?" His eyes scanned the clearing again, noting the torn and wispy webbing hanging from the lower branches. It didn't take a genius to recognize spun silk thread, even if it was the thickness of climbing nylcord.

He edged to the nearest trailing curtain and touched the dangling cords cautiously. He grasped it more confidently when he discovered that there was no adhesive mingled in with the cord.

"Now that is impressive," he thought. His mind calculated the size of the creature based on the thickness of the strand in his fingers.

"About the size of a scout rig," he concluded. "Probably a single k in weight. Big fucker."

He found the trail away from the site easily and moved in the direction he hoped his friends had been taken.

The spaces between the trees became more and more dominated by thick curtains of web, and every now and again, he froze as he heard something scuttle past or above his location.

The analytical side of his mind had already deduced the size of creature he was facing and he was relatively certain as to the species now as well. He suppressed a sudden shudder.

"Thousand pound crawlon," he gulped. "This is really going to suck."

He found the six bundles of web hanging thirty feet from the floor of the forest, looking like arrow of pale white cocoons.

He surmised that the two smaller ones were Gabrielle and Nicolla, the medium sized one was probably Xena, while the slightly larger and largest bundles were Tyrion and Silas respectively, while the last smaller, and more barrel shaped one was most likely Gimli.

He crouched in the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, watching the area.

He was just about to edge towards them when he spied one of the creatures moving across the branches above the dangling bundles.

It was pale in color, the abdomen covered in short coarse fur, while the thorax and face were covered in shining chitinis plates. Eight long spindly legs moved with jointed deliberation, the clawed ends pinching and gripping the branches as eight gleaming eyes stared unblinking from the cluster above the two long dripping fangs.

"I would not suggest attacking them directly," A voice offered quietly beside him.

He practically jumped out of his skin. Instead he spun quickly and found his weapon aimed at the nose of Legolas.

"Jumping Giznad!" He hissed at the elf. "Do you want to get yourself shot?"  
Legolas merely studied Felix for a long moment. "Your friend, the one called Silas, also asked me that question before."

"What?" Felix turned back to watch the colony.

"Felix, I presume?" Legolas asked. "I was lead to understand that you were not in your right mind."

"Yeah, well," Felix shrugged slightly. "I'm feeling much better now. What the hell happened?"

"We were ambushed," Legolas knelt beside him. "They dropped from the boughs above and overwhelmed everyone. I was able to escape."

"Lucky you," Felix offered.

"As yet, I have been unable to rescue our companions," Legolas continued. "And they have begun discussing among themselves which one to consume first."

"They're sentient?" Felix asked incredulously.

"Yes," Legolas replied.

"Well," Felix considered. "That modifies the game plan somewhat."

His goggled eyes spied eight of the monsters in the nearby trees. All of them were massive in size, as Felix had anticipated.

"Game plan?" Legolas asked.

"My plan," Felix replied.

"What was your plan?" Legolas asked.

"Dropping a big can of entomological repellent," Felix shot back in annoyance.

"I can see eight of them," Felix indicated the colony. "How many do you see?"

"Fourteen," Legolas replied quietly. "All around us at various levels in the nearest trees. There may be sentries out beyond this place."

"I'll have to chance it," Felix nodded, absently feeling the grenades attached to his vest.

"What are you considering?" Legolas asked.

"If I can pull them away from here, how fast can you get them down?" Felix asked.

"A matter of mere minutes," Legolas replied easily. "Provided I am undisturbed."

Felix nodded.

"Alright. I'm going to pull back to a safe distance and then start picking them off," Felix smiled grimly. "The more I kill the pissier they should get. When they come after me, you duck in and cut them loose, got it?"

Legolas nodded, drawing one of his long knives.

"I'll clear a path for you heading due north," Felix finished. "When the shit hits, you take them that way. I'll hook up with you later."

Again, the elf nodded. "Good luck."

Felix made his way back out of the colony. On his way he spied four sentries resting watchfully in the branches of several trees.

He gave himself about thirty yards distance from the nearest one and found a toppled tree to hide behind.

"Back of the head, near the neck is where most entomological species have their brains," he thought to himself. He slung his MP9 and set the large AS2 up atop the fallen trunk. The thermal scope clicked to life and in the hazy bluish imager, he made out the varying hues that indicated the fiery presence of one of the crawlons.

"Good morning ladies," he whispered with a smile. "This is your wake up call."

The target reticule blinked as it locked on the nearest creature. Felix squeezed the trigger.

The report of the rifle echoed among the trees as the first creature fell from its perch, thrashing on the leafy ground.

Felix swiveled to the second and fired again and then to the third with identical lethality, and finally the fourth.

That one was dropping to the ground on one of its strands as the shot blasted into the back of the head. The corpse dropped from the line and fell atop two others rushing towards the flash of the weapon.

"Oh my," Felix said as he quickly fired two more shots and felled one of the two rushing at him. The face of the beast exploded in gore and it careened sideways into its counterpart. The two massive creatures fell in a tangle of bulbous bodies and entwined legs.

Felix dashed away from the carnage, moving laterally around the perimeter. He found another spot and sighted back around at his previous location.

No less than six of the creatures were milling about the area, frothing in rage.

As he scanned the area, he also saw several more scuttling from the webs towards the spot.

Smiling, he raised the rifle and sighted one of the creatures, taking it down with a single, well placed shot.

"One spot, one shot," Felix grinned as he darted deeper into the trees.

He ducked behind a tree and watched his last spot.

Eight of the creatures swarmed over the area, spitting and stamping in fury.

Felix drew the grenade, and threw it into the middle of the writhing throng.

Several of them turned to the unnatural thunk as the explosive landed in their midst.

There was a dull WHUMP, and the bodies of the spiders seemed to splinter in the blinding flash of the explosion.

The air was alive with the hoarse, horrifying cries of the monsters as they swelled with rage.

Felix spun to his left and fired two quick shots, felling another of the creatures before he darted further away again.

He stopped once he was out of sight and quickly set one of his armed grenades in the crotch of two small branches.

Then he was running again, dropping into another crouch behind another tree and watching as the mass of monsters surged after him.

Looking up he spied some of them crossing from branch to branch, flinging web lines to snare him.

He took aim and fired, dropping one of the web spinners from a tree with. It hissed in rage as it rolled about on the ground.

The second web slinger gave up on that practice and dropped to the ground staring right at him in the darkness.

Felix fired three quick shots, the first two felling the creature before him, the third snapping the branch holding his concealed grenade. It fell to the ground as several more monsters scuttled past.

The concussion of the blast sent five of them sprawling off to one side, landing in smoking, writhing heaps.

"Come on ladies!" Felix called out to them. "The party's just getting started!"

The spiders scrambled up trees, casting web lines in a tangled mass near his hiding spot, but Felix had already departed, moving laterally again to a new spot to observe their futility for a few moments before he fired upon them again.

His foot brushed against a stone. He scooped it up and lobbed it into the throng of creatures, watching in amusement as they scattered away from the sound.

They were smart, and they were learning.

He drew his third grenade and attached a trip wire to the pin. Then he stretched that between two branches just behind his position. He looked back through the scope at the throng below. They were turning their bulbous bodies back and forth, scanning for him.

He smiled and fired a single shot into the foremost of the creatures. Its ghastly face exploded as it dropped dead without as much as a shudder. Then a second fell and then a third.

"Come on!" He shouted. "Come and get me!" He took down another one for good measure and watched as they charged in fury up the shallow hill towards him with unnatural speed.

Felix turned and bolted up the hill, neatly hopping over his set trap.

A few moments later he could hear the hisses of his pursuers. There was another satisfying explosion and inhuman cries.

He changed his course northwards and moved steadily away from the monsters, occasionally pausing to pick two or three off before resuming his movement.

After nearly thirty minutes of this deadly game of cat and mouse, the creatures gave up and turned away, moving back towards their colony, hissing in frustration.

Felix lifted his night vision goggles from his eyes and scanned the woods. The light was growing even as he watched. Morning had arrived at last.

He stowed his goggles and scanned the trees around him one more time for any trouble, then he altered his course to a point where he assumed Legolas and the others would be.

The world was hazy and it felt as if her stomach was going to explode through her throat. Gabrielle kept a feeble hand on Xena's belt as they half ran, half stumbled after Legolas.

Looking to her left and right, she saw the others. Of them all, it seemed that Mavon was recovered the most. He was sure on his feet, only stumbling occasionally, whereas Silas could barely stay upright.

On her left, Gimli and Nicolla staggered unsteadily while before them, Tyrion moved as quickly as he could through the twisting, gnarled boughs.

The forest behind them was filled with angry bloodthirsty hisses. Branches and smaller trees cracked as numerous spiders scuttled after them, attempting to reclaim their promised meal.

Suddenly, Legolas was beside them again, his beautiful white shirt stained purplish black with the blood of those creatures. His long knives and his hands were coated in the stuff.

"Keep going!" He shouted encouragingly.

Silas's foot caught on a snag and he toppled forward, skidding to a stop.

"Si!" Tyrion turned and tried to get the big man back on his feet.

Silas's only response to the aid was to vomit the contents of his stomach onto the ground before him and fall back to the ground again.

Legolas, Gimli, Nicolla, Mavon, and Xena all turned to face the coming surge of monstrosity. They emerged from the shadows, gray and black frothing, hissing horrors. Four of them spread out, stalking closer now.

Something whizzed through the trees from their left and smashed into three of them in rapid succession. The trio of creatures convulsed and dropped to the ground dead while the fourth turned and scuttled back a few paces before it too was slain.

Rapid orange tracers of fire lit up the woods beyond and the air filled again with inhuman hissing cries of pain.

Beaten, frightened and hungry, the spiders withdrew, hissing angrily at this new unseen foe. There was a soft thunk and then the explosion of a grenade and several more of the creatures perished in fire. That was the final straw for them and they abandoned their hunt, fleeing back into the darkest portion of the forest.

Another wave of dizziness washed over Xena as she watched the creatures withdraw. She turned her bleary vision and sought for the source of their aid. A single figure materialized from the shadows, bearing one of the strange otherworldly weapons of Tyrion's people. He was covered in grime and sweat, his clothing filthy.

Xena blinked.

"Felix?" she managed to slur.

"Felix?" Nicolla echoed beside her.

Gabrielle tried to focus her eyes on the man walking towards them.

"Not," Gabrielle began, but the words wouldn't form. She pitched forward and fell back into poisoned dreams.

Tyrion leaned back against a tree, struggling to keep his eyes opened and focused as the figure stepped before him and knelt down.

"Felix?" He managed to ask.

Felix smiled that all knowing grin and shrugged. "I told you I could help."

Tyrion's drunken smile morphed into a chuckle. "Welcome back."

Felix patted Tyrion on the shoulder and nodded.

Mavon helped Nicolla settle down to the ground. She was absolutely ashen in the rising sun.  
"Easy does it," Mavon said gently.

"How is it that you don't feel like shit?" she asked hoarsely.

"Because I'm special and you're not," he retorted.

"Hey, nipple dick!" a voice called. Mavon frowned and turned back to see Felix striding towards him.

"What the hell?"

"You dropped something," Felix offered. Then he tossed his MP9 to Mavon who caught it reflexively.

"Doc?" he asked in amazement.

Felix grinned and offered a hand up to his friend.

"Oh, I almost forgot," He added as Mavon rose to look him in the eye.

Felix punched him in the jaw, sending him staggering back.

"That was for cold cocking me back at Isengard!" Felix admonished him. "Don't do it again."

Mavon looked at Felix for a moment, rubbing his sore jaw. A smile began creeping over his thin features.

"You son of a bitch," he began laughed. "Don't you," he began, and then he smiled more broadly and shrugged. "Ah fuck it."

He grabbed Felix in a tight embrace. "Crazy son of a bitch!" He kept repeating as he pounded Felix's back.

Xena tried to force herself to take deep breaths as she came out of the haze surrounding her mind. She rolled over to her side and groaned as she tried to bring herself back upright.

A pair of hands touched her shoulder and wrist helping her rise again. When she looked up she found Mavon giving her an unusually reassuring gaze.

"Just take it easy for a while lady," he offered. "If you feel like you look, you ain't walking for a while."

"How do I look?" she managed to ask.

"Like warmed over pudong," Mavon replied.

She managed a frown. "That's something bad, I assume?"

"You want the details?" Mavon smiled.

She shook her head and leaned back against a tree.

"Well, at least you have your wits," Mavon grinned. Then he looked up and away. "Xe's conscious!"

"The creatures will return before long," Legolas offered. "We should not linger here. I can lead us to a safer place."

"Boss," Felix offered. "Let's get moving." He moved over to the still unconscious Gabrielle and knelt beside her.

Silas took a few unsteady steps towards them, but Felix waved him off.

"No offense big guy," he said. "You're a bit unsteady. The last thing she needs is your fat carcass falling on top of her. I'll carry her."

"Little shit," Silas grumbled even though he was smiling.

Silas took Felix's backpack and rifle instead.

Felix gently scooped Gabrielle up in his arms.

"All good?" he asked the others. There were several groans and a few grumbles.

"Mave," Felix nodded. "Watch our six. Legs? Lead the way."

Legolas nodded. "This way. It is not too far."

As they continued further through the woods, the spider webs became less and less frequent. They finally vanished all together as the woods began to take on a much more recently neglected appearance.

The trees had a more wholesome look about them, and the boughs above seemed more sheltering and less threatening.

"We are in the land of my kin," Legolas said. "We are safer now than we were, but we should press on."

Felix shifted Gabrielle in his arms. "Well, let's keep pressing."

The first thing Gabrielle realized was that she was not lying on the ground. She seemed to be floating on a cloud. Her head lay comfortably against something and she could hear the steady rhythm of a heart beat.

"This must have been what it would have felt like, lying in his arms," she thought. "If only."

The light behind her eyelids was brightening as she felt the steady fall of feet beneath her, even as she understood that it was not her feet carrying her.

The movement came to a stop.

"These are the gates of Thengol, my father," she heard Legolas, as if from a distance. "Within these halls we have naught to fear."

She forced here eyes open and looked up through the glare. The blinding light faded revealing his face staring down at her, calm, composed, emotionless.

"Felix?" she managed to ask.

"Hello," Felix said evenly. "How are you feeling?"

"Terrible," she confessed. "How are you feeling?"

"My physiognomy is unimpaired," he offered. "We have nearly arrived at a secure facility. There, you can all recover as your bodies metabolize the toxins used in your capture."

"What?" Gabrielle frowned. "Felix. What about you? Didn't you try and reopen the emotional stuff in your mind?"

"You are referring to the moral and ethical foundations that I was going to attempt to assimilate back into their proper contexts?" He asked.

"Yeah," Gabrielle felt her heart drop. "That. I guess it didn't work?"

"In point of fact," Felix replied. The complete revivification of my ethical, moral, and even my theological foundations has been completely successful. All relevant issues and experiences have been re-delegated to their appropriate priorities." His stony expression began to crack.

"Also, if I may say, you look absolutely fucking hot lying here in my arms like this. Once we get in there, I may not be able to control myself."

She looked back up at him again and saw the genuine mirth, the mischievousness, all in the sparkle of his hazel green eyes.

Several people snorted as they tried to suppress laughter in spite of their condition.

"You are such an asshole, Doc," Mavon commented from behind him.

Felix smiled down at her. "Welcome back you."

"Me?" The sudden shock of his return drove the queasiness from her in a surge of emotion.

Before them, a pair of massive ornate wooden gates began to swing open towards them.

"Enter, and be at peace my friends," Legolas said.

Felix took a step forward.

"Wait," Gabrielle said quickly.

He gently set her on the ground, their eyes never leaving one another.

"Doc," Silas called.

Tyrion put a hand on the big man's shoulder, and then he looked at Xena who gave him a nod of understanding.

They all vanished in through the gate.

The world could have crumbled to ash around them and they wouldn't have noticed.

"Is it you?" Gabrielle asked. "Is it really, really you?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing would form. He tried again, and still nothing.

"Hell with it," He finally said and he took her face in his hands and pulled her into a kiss.

In one rushing moment of passion, all of Gabrielle's fears and doubts about the man before her had vanished. At the same instant, all the old fears and revulsions suddenly reawakened, and she stiffened suddenly. The trepidation lasted only a moment before she relented and let herself be carried away by the feeling again.

When they finally parted, it took a few moments for Gabrielle to realize that they actually had.

"Hi there, again," Felix managed to say.

She grabbed him about the waist and held him tightly as if she were afraid he might vanish at any moment.

He wrapped his arms about her shoulders and held her there.

"I get the impression that you missed me?" he smiled.

She sobbed suddenly even as she laughed.

"We have a lot to talk about, you know?" Felix said after a few moments.

"Yeah," Gabrielle sniffed. "I know. But not just yet, okay?"

He nodded and kissed the top of her head as they turned and strode in through the gates and vanished into the hill.

Even after twenty years of silence, the ancient palace of the wood elves retained its silent splendor.

Legolas led them up a grand entrance and past many arched passages until they reached the great hall.

It had been hewn out of the living rock, akin to the dwarves homes in the mountains, except that this palace had columns carved in the graceful shape of enormous trees with stone branches and graven leaves spreading out on the ceilings above.

"Here are the Halls of Thranduil," Legolas said in a reverent voice. "The ancient home of my people."

He began moving along the walls of the hall, lighting torches that waited patiently in sconces.

Slowly the room began to fill with soft golden light. The flames flickered and sputtered amidst the stony trunks, shimmering on the polished floor and reflecting like a golden sunrise on the bejeweled leaves of the carved trees above. The entire illusion was that of a sunset in autumn, among the trees of the forest.

Emeralds and pearl twinkled in the torchlight like minute stars just breaking the veil of sunlight. Here and there the image of deer or squirrel or countless birds was reflected in the soft stone.

No one in the party was able to keep from staring.

"It's beautiful," Nicolla managed to breathe.

"Alas that it has been left abandoned these past decades." Legolas replied sadly. "As with all things, this too shall soon fade into memory, lost in the passing of years."

"Why did your people leave, Legolas?" Gabrielle asked suddenly. "If they had accomplished all this, why leave it?"

Legolas shrugged.

"It was not just my people who chose to leave Middle Earth. All my kin, the Quendi, the Silvan, each left Middle Earth, crossing the Sundering Seas to the Undying Lands int eh West."

He looked at them with sad eyes. "The final wars against the Dark Lord of Mordor were too great a loss for my people to endure. They had wearied of conflict by the beginning of the Third Age, and longed for peace eternal. The time of the Elves was done, and now is the time of Man."

He blinked and smiled softly. "Please, take your ease here, my friends. Explore these passages freely. Rest and recover your strength. I fear this shall not be the haven it is for much longer, now that my people are no more."

They spent some hours merely lying and resting as the poisons were driven from their bodies. Nicolla, Gabrielle and Xena spent time wandering the ancient halls of Thranduil, exploring the dusty passages and abandoned suites, still furnished with beautifully crafted chairs, tables, divans, and cabinetry.

On the upper levels, they found the royal apartments. These were a series of finely furnished suites that had once been the household of the royal family.

All around them, in the halls, on the floors and ceilings, the work of skilled hands had carved the images of the forest beyond with such detail that Gabrielle caught herself several times watching as the illusion of movement from the graven creatures caused her to look twice and make sure that some living relatives had not discovered a way in.

Small natural spring basins bubbled and gurgled filling the halls with the music of water.

"Gabby?" Nicolla's voice came from a nearby doorway. The constant movement had helped her to metabolize the poison and her voice sounded stronger. "Check this out."

Curious, Gabrielle and Xena followed her voice in through a fine chamber, across to a secondary chamber. Nicolla stood at a set of finely crafted double doors, peering into the room beyond.

"What is it?" Xena asked as the two of them stepped up behind her.

Nicolla looked back at Gabrielle and smiled. "Were you seriously looking for the perfect opportunity?"

Gabrielle frowned.

Nicolla stepped aside, allowing the two of them to enter.

Gabrielle's breath caught when she passed into the room and the torchlight drove the shadows away.

It had to have been the bed chamber for the king and queen. No other official would have deserved such opulent appointments. The finely crafted wooden furniture seemed untouched by the passage of time, The massive bed against the far wall had been carved out of the stone in the room, creating a large, wide base laden with pillows on a thick mattress.

The ceiling sparkled with the light of countless diamonds, like the sky at night, and the floor was polished mirror smooth, reflecting the refracted light of the gems above. The entire illusion was one of walking among the stars in the heavens.

"Oh wow," Gabrielle gasped.

"How is it that the moisture in here hasn't started rotting all the furniture and fabrics?" Xena asked.

"Trust you to be all business at a time like this," Gabrielle quipped. "Are you seeing this?"

Xena smiled. "Yes, I see it, and it is nice."

"Nice?" Gabrielle shot back. "Nice? We're standing in a room more fantastic than any palace we've ever seen back home and all you can say is 'nice'?"

"Fine," Xena shrugged. "It's very nice."

Gabrielle gave a soft frustrated sound and rolled her eyes.

"But why is nothing decomposing here?" she finished, ever the pragmatist.

Nicolla shrugged, fumbling within the thigh pocket of her pants. She drew out a small scanner and activated it.

"What are you doing?" Xena asked.

"Trying to answer your question, for one," Nicolla replied. Then she smiled. "And making sure that it's safe for us in here. If it is, and Gabby doesn't take advantage of this, I just might."

Gabrielle looked sidelong at Nicolla. "Really?"

"Doesn't take advantage of this?" Xena asked. Then she smiled in understanding. "Oh, that."

Nicolla fiddled with the scanner, studying the readings carefully. "Yeah, that. No one should leave a romantic little room like this without using it, in my opinion."

"And if she doesn't," Xena grinned. "Who do you have plans for?"

"Tyrion," Gabrielle grinned.

Nicolla looked up at her sharply.

"Come on, Nicky," Gabrielle grinned broader. "I remember that little conversation at Silas's place."

"Well," Nicolla shrugged. "I was just making conversation at the time."

Xena raised an eyebrow.

"Honest conversation," Nicolla finished, frowning at the readings.

"So," Xena offered. "You and Tyrion are, what? An item?"

"Hardly," Nicolla sighed. "Not from lack of trying on my part, but he seems to always have something going on that gets in the way of us."

"Does he know?' Xena pressed.

Nicolla shook her head. "If I told him, he'd keep me at arms length, including leaving me behind for missions, and then I wouldn't have had the opportunity to see you guys again."

"In other words," Gabrielle smiled. "He'd get spooked and run."

"I can't imagine Tyrion running from anything," Xena stepped back out into the main room.

"Sidestepping would be a better word," Nicolla smiled. Then her expression changed. "That's strange."

"What?" Gabrielle asked.

"There's an energy field here." Nicolla replied. She tapped her com. "Hey Felix?"

"Yes ma'am?" Felix replied.

"Check your scanner. Is there anything weird in your area?"

"You mean besides my personality?" Felix replied. "One second."

"I think I liked him better before," Nicolla whispered.

"Don't say that!" Gabrielle wheeled on her. Then she saw the humor in the other woman's expression.

"Okay you're ladyship," Felix chimed back in a moment later. "What we have here is a low level sonic field, with a twist."

"Sonic field?" Nicolla repeated.

"Yeah, your basic low level frequency modulation," he explained. "It won't affect us, but it might affect other life forms."

"How so?" Xena asked.

"You familiar with the concept of low and high frequency sound waves?" Felix asked.

Xena looked at Nicolla and shrugged.

"Just say it, Felix," Nicolla pressed. "I'll translate."

"Okay," Felix began. "It's like being in the receiving end of a sonic projector. Some of them utilize very high or very low frequency ranges. Some of them operate beyond the ability of normal sapiens to perceive. Still with me?"

"Still with you," Nicolla replied, seeing the blank looks on Xena and Gabrielle's faces.

"Well," Felix mused. "This field is on the very low end of the scale, way lower than anything you or I could hear. Still, it might mess with other creatures."

"Mess with them how?" Nicolla asked.

"Oh, nothing overly nasty," Felix replied. "Maybe mess with their equilibrium a bit, make them queasy, or blinding headaches. Those kinds of things."

"Could that be the reason why those bugs stay away from here?" Nicolla asked.

"That whole, the magic of the elves, thing?"

"Yeah."

Felix was quiet for a moment. "I guess it's possible." He was silent for a little while longer. "It's a resonant field, but with an underlying energy that suggests that it isn't naturally occurring."

"If it isn't natural?" Nicolla asked. "Could there be tech here somewhere?"

"Yes and no," Felix replied. "If I'm reading this thing right – and I usually do – then the energy for this signal is originating," He paused. "From low orbit?"

There was a moment of silence and then women all heard a sigh.

"See?" He continued. "Now you've gone and done it. You slap a mystery down in front of my face and I won't be able to sleep until I solve it."

They could hear some background movement. "This is the thanks I get for saving you sack lunches."

"Watch it, junior," Silas growled over the channel. "We sack lunches are listening."

"You aren't a sack lunch Si," Felix shot back. "As big as you are, you're the all you can eat buffet."

"Well, if there were any doubts before," Tyrion added. "That pretty much killed them. Welcome back, Doc."

Gabrielle felt the smile spreading across her face, both at the humor and in relief. Even as she felt it, an underlying sense of dread suddenly reappeared intermingled with her desires.

She found her eyes once again looking at the bed in the chamber. In her mind, she could almost imagine being in that bed, with him, uninhibited, unafraid, and then that sensation of disgust at the thought percolated to the surface.

Someone was speaking to her. She blinked and returned from her thoughts.

"What?"

Nicolla stood there, studying her closely.

"I said, let's see what else there is around here." Ashe repeated. Her expression became something more thoughtful. "Gabby? Are you okay?"

Xena reappeared, looking through the open doorway at her.

"Gabrielle?"

"I'm fine," They young bard replied, forcing a smile. "I'm okay. I just have a lot of things on my mind."

"I can imagine," Nicolla offered a sly smile, taking in one more survey of the chamber. "Come on," Nicolla offered, indicating the exit.

The women found four more apartments all of them lavishly appointed in varying styles. As they continued their explorations, Nicolla regularly consulted her scanner watching the errant energy readings for any sign that they might be getting close to its source.

The constant movement helped their bodies metabolize the arachnid sedative more quickly and after an hour, they each felt almost as well as before the attack. The corridors echoed with soft merry conversation.

The party regrouped in the main hall near the entrance for their evening meal. The exploration of Legolas's home had taken the majority of the day.

Everyone was feeling better, though a touch of sickness from the spider venom remained. Tyrion decided that it would be best if the party spent the night in the palace of the elves instead of pushing on through the forest.

They started a small fire in the hearth, assigned watches, and stretched out in the main hall of the palace instead of retiring to the finely appointed apartments on the upper floors.


	12. Chapter 12

Kajano (Predator)

**Chapter 12**

"Your watch was over an hour ago, lady," Legolas offered gently. "You should sleep."

Gabrielle blinked, coming back from her thoughts. The flames in the small fire before her had died to flickering embers.

"Sorry," she replied. "What was that?"

Legolas folded himself on the floor, gazing across the glowing embers at her with sharp eyes that seemed almost luminous.

The gaze was bright and inquisitive, and yet filled with patient wisdom. His appearance was youthful and vigorous, and yet his manner was one that would seem more to fit one of the elders of her home.

Gabrielle suddenly felt uncomfortable in that powerful stare. There was something in the intensity and, in some obscure way, the inhumanity of his gaze that set her on edge even as she realized he meant no harm to her.

She frowned at him, studying him in turn, partly out of her own curiosity and partly because it allowed her to find a way to hold his thoughtful gaze as she examined him.

"I said," Legolas smiled softly. "That you should be resting now. The day will be here soon enough."

"Yeah, well," Gabrielle shrugged. "Sometimes I don't do what I should do."

She picked up a long stick and began absently prodding the remains of the fire.

"What troubles you, lady?" Legolas asked suddenly. "I see it every day in your bearing, though you have oft hidden it well from the others."

She looked up at him sharply.

"Forgive my curiosity," Legolas offered quickly. "It is just that – You have reclaimed your lost love, ere I read your heart inaccurately regarding the one named Felix. It should be a moment of joy, and yet?"

"I am happy he's alright," Gabrielle said quickly.

"I did not mean to suggest that you felt otherwise," Legolas raised a hand calmly. "And yet, there is a shadow about you, in spite of your joy."

"Yeah, well," Gabrielle forced a smile. "That's me. Eternally complicated."

Legolas smiled. "Indeed, and yet I have learned much though you have hidden much and offered little."

"You have?" Gabrielle began to feel the uneasiness creeping back into her gut.

The elf's gaze was almost feral in its intensity, and then, just as she felt she might burst under that gaze, it softened to something warm and compassionate.

"Your melancholy was thrust upon you," Legolas finally said in a soft reassuring tone. "It is for you to bear and no other is meant to know of it. You feel for those you protect and mourn those you feel you have failed in any small way. You have offered and given freely in love, and in payment, something betrayed you."

Gabrielle felt a lump form in her throat.

"It was not the betrayal of a close lover," Legolas continued. "That pain would fade over time. The idea itself was betrayed."

There was a long moment of silence, and it seemed that Legolas was considering his next words carefully.

"May I ask you a question?" he finally offered.

Gabrielle nodded.

"It is clear to me that Felix holds your heart, and you hold his," Legolas continued. "And yet you do not go to him, nor does he come to you. Why is this?"

"It's difficult," Gabrielle began. "There are things that are, um, that make," she gestured to herself. "It's just not that simple."

Legolas smiled. "Is it truly that complicated?"

"It's just not possible for us," Gabrielle blurted. "We're from two different worlds. We wouldn't be able to, you know?" She heard Tyrion's own words emerging from her mouth and the taste was bitter.

"Two worlds?" Legolas actually laughed softly. "Yours is hardly the first of such tales. And not all such tales end unhappily."

"Shall I tell you the tale of Ellessar and Endomiel?" Legolas offered. "They, too, were parted by many things, and yet they endured."

"They did?" Gabrielle asked.

"Indeed." Legolas gazed into the glowing embers, but his eyes focused inward toward his memories. "I shall tell it to you in brief, for it is a long tale, filled with deeds both great and terrible."

"Ellessar was the chief of the Dunedain. He was born and raised in the fair vale of Rivendell during the Third Age.

It was within that place that he first beheld Endomiel, singing in a glade as she was often wont to do.

Beneath the stars, she has always been counted as one of the fairest maidens ever to walk the earth.

Now, Endomeil was the Daughter of Elrond, Lord of Rivendell, and Ellessar was the child of an elf friend.

As the young Ellessar beheld Endomiel, his heart was pierced by her beauty, and he set forth to win her. She too, was enamored of him and very soon after, they pledged their troth, one to the other.

Yet, she was of elf kind, immortal, unchanging, and the daughter of Elrond, while he was a man, and the passing of time would consume him."

When Elrond presented her to our people, he set forth the conditions for her betrothal, and in that moment, Ellessar's heart was broken, for Elrond decreed that, so fair was Endomiel, she should be wed only to the king of ancient Gondolin, a kingdom long since fallen."

"Then how could they possibly be together?" Gabrielle asked. "If the kingdom no longer existed?"

"Ah," Legolas held up a hand. "Therein lay his hope, for Ellessar was descended from the ancient line of the kings, yet he had abandoned his noble heritage, fearing that its corruption would overcome him. They continued their courtship in secret, even as he was thrust into matters of high concern."

Many great and terrible deeds befell them, and they were parted long," Legolas continued. "In the end, she was given the choice that all of my kin must face. To sail to the Undying Lands in the distant West, across the sundering sea, or to become mortal, and remain in Middle Earth."

Ellessar endured the hardships of his appointed quest. His sword won him great renown in battle, and he was counted as one of the bravest heroes of the age. In the end, he was victorious, and set on high by many. Yet his victory was bittersweet because he believed he had lost the one thing he desired more than all the accolades of the ages."

Legolas began to smile.

"But it was not to be," he went on. "Because at his coronation, the lord Elrond presented to Ellessar, a bearer of the standard of Rivendell, and her features were concealed by the standard she bore."

"Lo, when the standard was taken from her hand, there stood the lady Endomiel, for the man who wore the crown of Gondor, held rule over the ancient kingdoms of Arnor and Gondolin as well, even though these realms be lost to the past."

Gabrielle actually smiled. Then something struck her.

"The crown of Gondor?" she asked. "You mean?"

"The Lord Aragorn and the Lady Arwen." Legolas smiled. "And they are proof, if any truly be needed, that any person whose heart is driven by hope and love can attain their truest destiny."

Gabrielle let those words sink in for a time.

Legolas observed this, his soft smile fixed on his face as he seemed to study the thoughts running through the young bard's head.

"Go to him, Lady," He finally said. "I know that he too is awake. He said that a mystery would keep him from rest."

She smiled, but remained where she was.

"In the least, he would be glad of the company?" Legolas offered again. He rose gracefully and left her to her thoughts.

Felix checked is readings and scratched his head as he thought. Without the link to the Phoenix Fire's computer coil, the data pads were severely limited in their processing ability. He made several more adjustments and some calculations. He scratched his head, pondering the readouts before him.

"Okay," he thought aloud. "We know that you're a sonic field. We know that you're at a low enough level to keep regular bacteria and mold spores from settling onto surfaces and degrading items. We know that the fine dust on everything is actually that dead bacteria, dried fungus, mold, – won't mention that part to the girls. Might gross them out…"

He adjusted his scanner to the widest maximum range and saw the unmistakable readings of movement just beyond the edge of the field.

"And we also know that this sonic field is keeping the big ugly bugs at bay." He finished. He brought up the wave line readout and frowned again. "So what is this underlying energy field have to do with you? What are you doing?"

He manipulated the controls. "You're not the power source. Not a backup carrier signal. Data feed? That's a possibility, maybe, I think?"

He set the data pad on the floor before him and rubbed the sides of his head furiously for a moment.

"Argh!" he blurted in frustration.

"Hi," a timid voice replied.

Felix looked up and saw Gabrielle standing in the doorway.

Instantly, some of his frustration vanished and he smiled. "Hey Gabs. What's up?"

Gabrielle shrugged. "I was just having trouble sleeping and I heard that you were too."

Felix laughed. "I told you. Once you put a mystery in front of me, I can't let it go till I solve it."

He gestured to the floor beside him. "Come on in and take a load off."

Smiling, she settled down beside him and looked down at the data pad curiously.

"So, you haven't figured it out yet?" she asked.

"Most of it," He replied. He lifted the pad and held it before them so she could see the readouts.

"I know that this sonic field is the reason why this place hasn't been overrun by the nasties out there, and it's also why nothing's degraded in here." He explained. "And I know that the field is not a natural phenomenon."

He shrugged and indicated the secondary wave length on the readout. "I don't know what this is, though, and that's the part that bugs me."

"Why?" Gabrielle asked. "What do you think it could be?"

"That's it," Felix replied, resuming his calculations. "I don't know, and that's what bugs me. I have a few theories, but nothing concrete yet."

His fingers moved across the entry keys as he ran various analytical tests.

"You know," he continued a few moments later. "We still need to talk about stuff."

Dread, instant and cold, knotted in Gabrielle's gut.

"Yeah," she agreed quietly.

Felix waited a few moments, giving her the opportunity to begin.

"You want to go first?" He finally asked when the silence might have indicated that she was offering the same courtesy to him. "Or do you want me too?"

"I don't know how to begin," Gabrielle said honestly.

"Okay," Felix set the data pad down and turned to face her. "Then I'll start if you don't mind."

He looked into her eyes for a long moment, considering the best way to proceed. In the end, he reverted to type.

"Does the idea of being with me make your skin crawl, or something?" he asked bluntly.

"No," Gabrielle was taken aback by the directness of his question. "I never was. Well, not with you anyway."

"With yourself?" He pressed.

"Yes, well," Gabrielle faltered. "It's just hard for me to," she paused. "My guard has been up ever since then and it's hard for me to let it back down again, you know?"

"I get it," Felix nodded. He cocked his head to one side, thinking.

Then he leaned a little closer. "I haven't been with anyone for a long ass time either." He smiled when her expression registered disbelief.

"I mean it," he continued. "I never felt right having any kind of relationship when I was on active duty, because a lot of the relationship would have been a lie, and then when I started playing in Tyrion's boat, I had the same feeling, even though we weren't running covert anymore, well, not really."

"Not really?" Gabrielle asked.

"A couple of little independent jobs, bringing stock in for Silas's side ventures, that's about it." Felix shrugged. "Thing is, I can talk to you about all that because _you _were one of our little covert ventures. You and Xena are as much one of us as Nicky or Mavon, though I regret it when I mention him."

Gabrielle smiled.

"Mavon had a problem when I came out of the vat," Felix continued. "He said on numerous occasions that I wasn't really me. What do you think?"

His gray eyes focused on her expectantly.

"No!" Gabrielle shot back sharply. "I mean, not really." She felt the pressure rising within her. "I mean, I don't know."

Her entire body was tense. Then, suddenly the dam burst,

"Why did you have to do that, Felix?" She blurted angrily. "First you drop out of the sky and back into my memory and then you terrify me by jumping off a cliff!" Her breathing was hard, and her eyes were welling up as the stress began to escape. "Then you get wounded, and to top it all off, just when I think you can't do anything more, you get yourself killed!"

"Gabs," Felix began.

"Killed, Felix!" Gabrielle cut him off angrily. "I saw them bring your body off the field! I saw them burn it!" Her voice was hoarse now as much from trying to keep her volume in check as from the escaping emotion.

"And then you do this!" she gestured at him angrily. "Back like nothing ever happened to you, but I saw it happen, and so I have to ask myself, is this really you?"

Felix raised his eyebrows. Then he reached into his thigh pocket and drew out a small dark box. Gabrielle immediately recognized it as the container that held and recharged his prosthetic eyes. "Look at these."

He opened the container and his old prosthetic eyes seemed to stare back up at her.

Gabrielle started slightly. "How did you?"

"Korbal took them before the funeral," Felix replied. "And gave them back to me when I came back."

The two eyes seemed to stare up at her from the case.

"What is it like looking into these as opposed to these?" he gestured to his own face. He set the box down in front of her and sighed. "Those are prosthetics, Gabrielle. They're _things_. They aren't real and the emotions you saw behind them only showed because they were a part of me! Aside from that, they're toys, understand?"

"It's just different," Gabrielle looked back into his face.

"No, no," Felix corrected her. He gestured to his face. "_This_ is normal. When I had to wear those – _that_ was different. You said so yourself."

"That's not what I mean," Gabrielle began to feel her defenses going up and she had to fight to keep her voice down.

"Then what did you mean?" He pressed.

"It was…I mean I was used to it!" Gabrielle hissed. "I got past the fact that you were blind, and that you had to plug those things into your face to see! I liked being able to help you when you couldn't see. I liked having your trust when I couldn't find any of my own to give you!"

"Even when I had you hand walk me into a nest of Kajano?" He asked.

"Yes!" she shot back. She stopped and blinked in surprise.

"You were leading a blind moron into a potential meat grinder and you actually liked it?" Felix said with a chuckle.

"That's not what I meant," Gabrielle retorted.

"Well, then," Felix pushed. "What did you mean?"

She stammered for a few seconds and Felix smiled.

"You liked having someone who was dependant on you." He said evenly. "Some poor crippled nut job who was totally reliant on you not steering him into every ditch and loose floor board or piece of furniture. You didn't find the idea of me tripping over everything amusing like Mavon would."

"I never would," Gabrielle answered.

"And you were the first person I trusted enough to let lead me away from the security of the ship without my eyes in, you know that?" he replied. "I never, _never_ let anyone do what you did before because nobody ever earned my complete trust before! Do you understand that?"

"I don't trust anything Felix," She shot back.

"Bull shit!" he hissed. "You trusted yourself enough to be willing to lead me around when I couldn't see, right up to Korbal and his boys when they could have easily just popped us off and called it a day! You trust Xena with your life every single day on that backward ass planet you call home, and you trust me enough to sit here and have this conversation! Shit! You trust me enough to be in the same fucking room with me after what you went through, never mind the talk! Don't you dare tell me you don't trust anything, you'll be lying your tight little ass off!"

"That's different!" Gabrielle said angrily.

"How?" he pushed.

"It just is!" She could feel the emotion rising in her to a dangerous level.

"Do you love me?" he asked quickly.

"Yes!" The word burst from her mouth before she had even had time to consider it, and instantly, the anger and anxiety went to cold dread and she looked at him with an expression of terrified astonishment.

"Well," Felix smiled. He moved closer to her. "That's the first completely honest thing you've said this entire conversation. How does that feel?"

"I," Gabrielle stammered.

"You need to understand one very important thing, Gabs," Felix said sternly. He reached down and pulled one of the prosthetic eyes out of the box, studying it critically. "The body of the guy that died on that field is gone." He threw the eyeball against the wall and it shattered in a shower of small components. He drew the second one up and looked at it. "In fact, these are the only things left of that lousy skin suit." He whipped the second one against the wall with similar results.

"Now," he fixed his steely eyes on her. "Just because that body is gone doesn't mean I am. It's _me_ Gabs, the same guy who translated docs in the library of Minas Tirith, the same one who caught your clumsy ass when you fell off a step stool, and the same crazy bastard that kissed you and then scared the shit out of you by jumping off a fucking cliff, got it?"

He was moving closer to her with each statement, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that she couldn't remember seeing any time before.

"Kiss me," he said simply.

"What?" Gabrielle gulped.

"I kissed you first at Minas Tirith," Felix said simply. "Your turn."

"Felix, I don't," Gabrielle faltered.

"You had no problem doing it when I came out of the test tube all covered in goo," Felix countered. "What's the difference now?"

"That was different," Gabrielle realized that this particular excuse was beginning to wear very thin.

"Why? Because I was more machine than man?" Felix retorted. "More program than passion, is that it?"

He was right in front of her, their lips almost close enough to touch. She could feel the soft current of his breath on her cheeks. His eyes were burning through her defenses. She felt her heart hammering in her ribcage.

"I don't trust you," she finally blurted.

"Just one," Felix replied.

"I don't trust myself!" She countered desperately.

"One kiss," Felix replied evenly. His eyes never flickered. They were almost reptilian except for the heat.

She came towards him, just a little, like a swimmer testing the waters before the plunge.

Felix came closer and their lips crashed together suddenly.

Gabrielle felt the adrenalin surge of fear as the sensations cascaded though her body. She instinctively wanted to pull away, but at the same moment, her hand reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck. It was as if her mind and body were ignoring one another.

The pleasure in this simple contact rushed through her like cleansing water, stripping away the guilt, the fear, the sensations of self revulsion that she had been carrying. All that was left was the pleasure and a sudden, almost overwhelming surge of raw, absolute desire.

She felt his arms around her, felt her hands moving of their own volition to encircle his neck. He pulled her against his chest as if he were trying to pull her into his very being.

It was every poem she had ever written, every taste of wine, every scent of flowers, every song, every joyous thing she had ever experienced all rolled into one and it threatened to overwhelm her to such an extent that she thought she might lose herself completely. At the same moment, she realized that she wanted to be lost in this feeling. She thought she might die if it went on, and still, on it went and she did not perish.

When they finally parted, she found herself looking up into his face with astonishment.

"Wow," she whispered breathlessly.

Felix smiled. "See?" he whispered as he caught his breath. "That wasn't so bad?"

He felt her fingers caressing the back of his neck. Her eyes were wide and bright, filled with desire and just a touch of fear.

"How can you want," she began. He pressed a finger against her lips, silencing her.

"I can," Felix interrupted her. "I always have, and I still do."

"I'm more worried about during and after," Gabrielle smiled.

"During, we'll see," Felix smiled. "After, well, I'm pretty sure I'll still want you."

He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. "Many, many times."

Gabrielle felt her cheeks grow hot as she smiled.

She suddenly remembered.

"I want to show you something," she whispered urgently. She grasped his hand and led him from the room. Felix barely had time to grab his data pad before she all but hauled him after her.

Nicolla's eyes snapped open in surprise and a soft cry escaped her lips before she caught her breath. The erotic images were still clear before her waking eyes and the sensations were almost overwhelming. Whatever she was, any doubts as to Gabrielle's latent abilities were put immediately to rest, and this 'new and improved' Felix definitely had some surprises too. She rose up on her elbows and shook her hair out of her eyes.

"Holy shit!" She whispered hotly as she felt her pulse racing. She fought to calm the flood of sensation down and block out the passionate images and emotions flooding her mind and body. After a long moment of concentration, she let out a sigh.

Legolas stopped in the doorway, looking down at her with concern. "Are you alright?"

Nicolla smiled. "Sorry, give me a moment, just a little orgas, er, overwhelmed there."

She took a deep breath and let it out in a long, exasperated sigh. "Whoa momma."

Legolas entered and seated himself against the wall, studying the young woman curiously.

A few moments later, Xena came in and saw Nicolla leaning on the floor in her sleeping roll, her face flushed and her hair slightly mussed. Nearby she saw Legolas with a somewhat bemused expression on his face.

"Everything alright?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah," Nicolla answered in a slightly husky voice. "We're all good here."

Xena frowned. Then she turned to Legolas. "Have you seen Gabrielle?"

"I believe she is with Master Felix," he offered

"That's a good bet," Nicolla nodded.

"Well, I can't find him either," Xena went on. She focused again on Nicolla and saw her mildly flushed expression. "What's going on here?"

"I don't think you want to go looking for them right now, Xe," Nicolla offered. "Trust me, though. Gabby's alright."

"Are you sure?" Xena pressed.

"Oh yeah," Nicolla shuddered slightly and smiled. "I'm pretty sure."

It took a moment before Xena realized the cause of Nicolla's apparent angst.

"Oh, you mean," she started.

"Yeah," Nicolla nodded quickly.

"And they're busy doing," Xena went on.

"Real well," Nicolla finished quickly.

The concern was plain on her face. Gabrielle was like a sister to Xena and she had concerns about the idea of Gabrielle and Felix being together, similar to the ones that Tyrion had expressed in Minas Tirith.

Xena turned and headed for the exit. She paused at the door and turned back. "You can actually, I mean, you know that they're?"

"Not usually," Nicolla said. "But Gabs does have some latent skills and Felix seems to as well. The two of them pretty much let go of everything and, well?" she shrugged.

"But you're sure she's all right?" Xena pressed.

"Yeah," Nicolla smiled. "She's doing just fine."

She shivered as a ripple of desire ran down her spine.

Legolas also rose to his feet and moved to the door. "I shall leave you to your thoughts, Lady."

"Could you send Tyrion in here?" Nicolla replied with a sly smile.

"If you wish," Legolas replied, not catching the inferred jest.

"No!" Nicolla said quickly. "Just kidding."

She waited till the two of them had departed before lying back down and staring at the ceiling. "But when this little trip is over, Tyrion Darquefyre, you are all mine."

She smiled and rolled back over trying to return to sleep.

Mavon finished his circuit of the upper wing and was making his way back towards the main chamber to awaken Silas for his watch when he heard a rustling sound coming from one of the closed doors along the hallway. He stepped over next to it and listened intently, frowning.

Then he heard it. A soft, barely contained gasp of pleasure. His eyebrows rose in surprise and he let his weapon fall back loosely at his side. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was in that room, or what was happening.

He resisted the juvenile urged to go in and interrupt them, preferring a discreet retreat the way he was going.

"About freaking time," he muttered to himself, smiling in appreciation.

He descended the stairs to the main chamber and found Silas lying in his sleeping roll, snoring softly. Nearby, Tyrion lay, his back resting comfortably against one of the graven pillars, his gilly hat pulled down over his eyes.

Mavon reached out and touched the big man's shoulder.

"Si," he whispered. "Your watch."

Silas's eyes opened and he sat up automatically. He shook his head and rubbed the drowse from his eyes.

"Right," he nodded. He gathered his weapon and rose to his feet. "See you in two hours."

Mavon nodded, setting his rifle down next to his sleeping roll. "Oh, and you might want to modify your route to bypass the apartments on the third level."

"Oh?" Silas asked as he checked the charge and safety on his weapon.

Mavon nodded, grinning.

"Why?" Tyrion asked from beneath the brim of his hat.

"Sheesh boss!" Mavon hissed. "Don't you ever flipping sleep?"

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," Tyrion replied, raising his hat and looking at the two of them. "Why are we avoiding the third level?"

"Doc is up there," Mavon replied. "With Gabs."

Tyrion's eyebrows rose. "Oh really? Do I need to ask?"

"Based on your look of fatherly disapproval, boss," Mavon shrugged. "I think you got a pretty good visual on what's happening."

"No wonder the little shit took first watch," Silas muttered. "He never takes first watch."

Tyrion grumbled something unintelligible. "We'll deal with it in the morning. In the mean time, follow the same patrol circuit."

"But," Silas began.

"Just," Tyrion winced. "Be quiet in the hall and for Sagan's sake, don't hang around."

"Like I would," Silas mumbled. "Alright, see you in two hours Chief."

Tyrion nodded and let his hat slip back down over his eyes. He grumbled something more and sighed.

Gimli looked up from his post inside the guard house, just within the main gates. Legolas came strolling into view. He had a somewhat bemused expression on his elvish features.

"So," The dwarf offered with a smirk of his own. "What has you all smug and satisfied?"

"What do you mean?" Legolas replied innocently.

"Oh now, don't you give me that, laddie," Gimli tapped the side of his nose. "I've been around you too long to know when you're meddling in affairs. No matter what evasion you try. So, what is it?"

"I was not meddling," Legolas countered.

"Prying then," Gimli shot back. "Use whatever word you like."

"Nor was I prying, nor interfering," Legolas replied calmly. "I merely offered council to one who was in need."

"Is that what you're calling it now?" Gimli leaned back and put his pipe to his lips, lighting it with a glowing chip. "And who, pray tell, was in such dire need of your council?" he continued sarcastically.

"My answer to your riddle may cost you, my friend," Legolas smiled.

The dwarf coughed in mid puff. "You didn't!"

"Indeed." Legolas replied. "It was that or watch the poor humans go mad with their denial."

"Oh, and our little wager had naught to do with it I assume!" Gimli brought his voice back in check before the echoes traveled too far.

"None whatsoever," Legolas replied easily. He held out his hand expectantly.

Gimli puffed in disbelief. "You interfered!" He blurted. He sat back with a huff and smoked furiously.

"It was for the best," Legolas withdrew his hand and sat down. "Regardless of our ulterior motives."

Gimli' stony face morphed into a grin.

"They do make a good pair, don't they?" He chuckled.

"That they do," Legolas pulled one of the gates open and sat down, staring out at the starry sky beyond. "And as with so many things in the world, everyone but they could see it."

Gimli puffed his pipe thoughtfully for a time.

"I'm still not paying," he finished, puffing out a large smoke ring that sailed through the gate and out into the forest beyond.

Legolas laughed softly.

The shadows crawled purple across the earth as the moon spun its way over the sky heading to the western hills as morning neared. The night breeze blew soft and gentle through the trees, moaning gently as the leaves rustled together.

Legolas, still seated at the gate, raised his eyes to look out at the setting moon and smiled as the breeze caressed his face.

Beside him, Gimli lay asleep, snoring loudly. He reached over and slapped the dwarf hard on the shoulder. The stocky form rolled over reflexively, snorted and fell silent.

Something chill flowed over him along with the gentle breeze, and instantly, his every nerve was alert as his eyes scanned the shadows of the trees beyond.

He rose to his feet and stepped just beyond the gate into the night beyond, searching for the source of his strange discomfiture.

"The air has changed," he whispered to himself. Just beyond his perception, he could hear the sounds of rustling, different from the leaves in the wind. It was deeper, heavier, and drawing closer to him.

Gabrielle rolled over and let her head rest against Felix's chest. She was completely exhausted and surprisingly content. She felt his arms around her, warm and reassuring, and she could hear the steady trip of his heartbeat as he rested.

"How do you feel?" He asked, smiling. He opened his eyes and kissed the top of her head.

"Wonderful," she replied.

"Then my job here is done," Felix said.

She laughed quietly and looked up at him. "Hardly."

She rolled over atop him and kissed him deeply.

Felix chuckled. "Again?"

"We have a lot to make up for," Gabrielle replied. She began kissing his neck and chest.

"Gabs," Felix protested. "We have got to get some sleep…..eventually…" He pulled the covers over them and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her.

A soft incessant beeping started off to the side of the bed, interrupting their passion.

Felix pulled away from her and sighed.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me," he grumbled.

"What is it?" Gabrielle asked.

Felix rolled over, reaching down over the edge of the bed to grab the data pad lying on the floor.

Gabrielle leaned up against his back, looking over his shoulder at the readings on the small screen.

Felix looked at the graphs in growing horror as the readings fell steadily and inexorably to nothing.

"Oh shit," he whispered. He ripped the covers off of them and scrambled for his clothing. "Quick! Get dressed! We got to get the hell out of this place!"

Gabrielle began gathering her own garments. "What is it?"

"That sonic field that was keeping the bugs away is fading!" Felix spun around in a circle, scanning for his clothes. He pulled his boxers on and scooped up the rest of his uniform, stuffing it into his backpack.

Gabrielle was still fastening her top as they ran down the hall and practically crashed into Tyrion walking his circuit.

"What the hell?"

"We got to get everyone out of here!" Felix gasped. "We got trouble, lots and lots of trouble!"

Even as he spoke, they heard a loud thud as the gates were slammed shut, and then Legolas's voice from below.

"Awake! Awake! Our foes are upon us!"

"Ah shit!" Tyrion bolted down the steps and found the others quickly grabbing equipment and taking up weapons.

"What have we got?" he asked.

"Those creatures are back!" Gimli replied, puffing hard. "I managed to brace the gates, but they won't hold for long. There must be hundreds of the things!"

"You're a popular guy, Doc," Mavon added, grinning as he looked at Felix's lack of apparel. In his haste he had managed to attire himself in only his undergarments with the bulk of his uniform jammed into his pack. He stood there now among them wearing only his boxers and a gun belt.

"Nice look," Mavon continued. "It works for you."

Felix armed his rifle. "It's all the rage on Rinos Drift."

A loud thud reverberated through the palace.

Tyrion, Xena and the others all ran forward and saw the gates recoil dangerously from a second hit.

Beyond the walls, the sounds of scrabbling massive clawed legs could be heard.

"Oh this sucks!" Felix protested. He looked at Legolas. "You got a back door out of this place?"

Legolas shook his head. "The main gates were the only way in or out, that way our enemies were forced to come from only one direction."

The gates bounced dangerously and this time there was the sound of crackling timbers.

"Pull back to the next chamber," Tyrion ordered. "Flip that dining table over to create a barricade. Stagger fire by teams!"

"Hoo ha!" Mavon replied as they all fled back into the main chamber.

"Ah, Legolas?" Gimli asked.

"Mavon, set a trip mine at the entrance," Tyrion pointed as they passed the archway into the chamber. "Felix, take these grenades and chuck them into the entry when the gates give. It might buy us some time before they hit the trip mine."

"Legolas?" Gimli pressed.

Legolas drew his bow and notched an arrow, his eyes fixed on the entrance as the timbers of the gate cracked under the pressure.

"There might be another way out?" Gimli said loudly.

"What?" Legolas turned back to face him.

"What?" Tyrion and the others all turned to look at the dwarf.

"My father was a guest here in his youth, at the time a certain burglar managed to arrange for he and his friends escape by stuffing them in barrels and sending them east along the Running River to Long Lake, remember?"

"Barrel Rider," Legolas whispered. "I am a fool! Quickly, we must get to the lower levels!"

"Go! Go! Go!" Tyrion ordered. He and Silas stayed in position.

"What about you?" Xena asked.

"Right behind you!" Tyrion shot back as Mavon handed him the detonator for the trip mine.

"Quickly!" Legolas called as he darted down a previously unexplored passage.

"Move! Move! Move!" Mavon shouted. He and Felix reached a turn in the hallway and stopped, turning back to point their weapons back the way they came.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"My job!" Felix shot back. "Get moving!"

Mavon hit the switch on his com. "Chief, we are twenty yards to the south in a holding position, waiting to cover your retreat."

Gabrielle knelt down in front of Felix, her eyes wide with fear. "Felix, I can't lose you again!" she begged.

He kissed her fiercely and then gently guided her towards the others. "Gabs, I love you, but you have to go now!"

"I can help!" Gabrielle protested.

"Xena!" Felix called.

Xena stepped forward and pulled Gabrielle away. "They'll be alright Gabrielle!" She said quickly. "We have to go, now!"

Felix looked over his shoulder towards the end of the corridor and spied the doorway a mere thirty feet away.

"Nicky?"

"I'll cover it," she answered automatically as she released the safety on her AS-2 rifle.

There was a deep rumbling crash followed by several short pops of the grenades and then a larger boom of the trip mine. The corridor echoed with hisses and screams.

The staccato thunder of Tyrion and Silas's weapons followed, keeping the monsters at bay.

Felix and Mavon listened intently to the rhythmic 'whump, whump, whump' of Silas's rifle, timing the remaining charge in their minds.

"Ready to make another mess?" Felix looked over at Mavon, grinning.

Mavon raised his weapon and sighted down the corridor. "Oh yeah."

Suddenly, the weapons of their comrades fell silent. A few seconds after that, they could hear the sounds of running feet and the puffing of breath. Felix saw the massive shape of Silas lumbering towards them.

"Come on you fat bastard!" He shouted. "Move it!"

Behind them, the hall was practically clogged with a mass of squelching, hissing bodies as the spiders flooded down the hall after them.

Tyrion raced past, tapping Felix on the shoulder. Mere seconds later, Silas plowed past.

"Shoot the fuckers!" he cried in terror.

Felix and Mavon opened up on the surging mass. The ones in front of the charge went down thrashing and stinging their companions reflexively as they died.

"Try and plug the hall!" Mavon shouted.

Felix dropped his rifle, letting it hang loose and whipped a grenade down the hall, it skittered between the tangled throng of legs and detonated with a muffled thump. Sprays of brackish blood covered the hall and move bodies fell dead.

In spite of the slaughter, the mass continued slowly towards them.

Mavon finished the charge on his rifle and loaded a fresh clip. That one fired five quick shots and went dead.

"What the hell?" He cried.

"Forgot to mention that," Felix said quickly as his clip ran dry. "Sorry."

"You bastard!" Mavon roared as the two of them took off down the hall towards the open door.

"Nicky!" Felix shouted.

She leaned out of concealment and opened up on the spiders with her heavy weapon, stopping the mass in its tracks for a few precious seconds.

The room had once been a storage room. Old casks of wine and other barrels used for storing food stuffs remained along the walls.

"This way!" Gimli shouted, pointing at an open trap door in the wooden floor.

Felix looked at the untapped wine casks and sighed.

"What a waste," he leapt through the opening into the freezing water.

"Lady!" Gimli shouted to Nicolla. "You're the last!"

Nicolla fired several more shots for good measure before abandoning her position and diving head first through the opening.

Gimli watched her vanish and then looked up just as the first of the massive arachnid creatures burst into the chamber.

With a cry, he dropped through the opening.

The water was icy cold when he struck, and his heavy armor immediately pulled him straight down to the bottom.

Strong hands hauled him back to the surface before he drowned. A small cask bobbed before him.

"Hold this," Legolas said quickly. "It will keep you afloat."

He looked around and then up at the open trap door. Fierce crimson clusters of eyes stared hungrily down at them. The floor boards above could be heard being pulled from their mountings with a terrible crashing and cracking.

"Swim!" Legolas cried. "Swim for it!"

They all splashed in a panic further down the narrow cave.

Mavon turned, drew his pistol, and fired a burst at the face staring down at them. The shadow recoiled and thick viscous fluid began dripping into the water behind them, hissing and smoking when it touched the cold water.

The current was swift and carried them deep beneath the earth. The small powerful lights that Tyrion and his people sprang to life, reflecting on the wet stone about them. The air was filled with the sound of rushing water.

The party bobbed and spluttered for what seemed like a short eternity before they saw the opening as a pale point of light in the distance.

The water burst from the opening, dropping several feet into the main flow of the river. Several of the party screamed in alarm when they were expelled by the fast moving current.

One by one, the waterlogged adventurers pulled themselves from the river.

"God damn that was cold!" Felix exclaimed as he rolled over on the shingle, shivering.

Further down the shore, Silas let out a thunderous sneeze.

"Forgive me, friends," Legolas apologized. "The river is much lower than it used to be. The opening used to empty into the river much more easily."

Tyrion rose to his feet stiffly. "Okay kids," he ordered. "Keep moving. Do a check and see if you're missing anything. We don't all want to wind up like Felix down there."

"Oh, that was humor, right?" Felix shot back as he got to his feet. Fortunately for him, he had managed to hold onto his backpack during the wild ride through the cave. His uniform was wet, but nothing was missing.

Tyrion noticed something floating on the water and he sloshed out to retrieve it.

"Anyone missing their data pad?" he asked, holding the pad in the air.

"That's mine," Nicolla replied. She received the errant piece of equipment and slid it back into the thigh pocket of her pants.

"Should have read through it first, boss," Mavon offered with a smug smile. That response got him slapped on the shoulder.

One by one, they all began to laugh. It began as soft chuckles and quickly grew to a loud release of stress.

"Okay folks," Tyrion chuckled. "We need to get moving. We have some back tracking to do, if I'm not mistaken."

"Indeed we do," Legolas offered. "But we have not gone too far out of our way. If we stay on the northern bank of the river and move westward, we should avoid our hungry friends."

Felix was fastening his back pack strap to his body when Nicolla came up and patted him on the shoulder.

"Not bad Felix," she offered a sly smile. "I never knew you were that good."

Felix frowned in confusion which Nicolla answered by nodding her head in Gabrielle's direction. "Way to go." She patted his shoulder again, smiling her infuriating, all knowing smile, and moved off after Tyrion and the others.

Felix's jaw dropped open in surprise. He looked back towards Gabrielle, then at Nicolla, and lastly to the opening of the cave.

"When in the hell have they had time to talk?" he asked aloud. He looked back at Gabrielle and saw her smile at him.

His confusion melted away to something more akin to pride and he smiled back at her.

"Well," he thought smugly. "At least I know this body works as well as the last one."

He adjusted his belt and followed after the others.

They moved west along the river for the better part of the day, retracing their steps back towards the enigmatic ruins of Dol-Guldor, careful to stay on the northern side of the river. The remained silent for the most part, occasionally halting and concealing themselves when they heard the sound of scrabbling feet on the southern side of the river.

As the sun began falling towards the mountains, they halted for their evening meal. Tyrion, Legolas and Xena all sat together, discussing their plans for the remainder of the day.

"I would council against entering Dol-Guldur in darkness, my friends," Legolas offered. "Even if it were abandoned of evil, it is still a hazardous place."

"I would have to agree," Tyrion nodded. "Even with our night vision gear, I would still like to be able to see where I'm putting my feet."

"Is it safe enough for us to spend the night out here, though?" Xena asked.

"It should be safe enough," Legolas nodded. "There may be a few flets nearby where we can take shelter."

"Flets?" Xena asked.

"Platforms built among the boughs of the trees," Legolas explained. "Our watchmen would use them to take shelter and watch the forest. They should provide adequate concealment from any unfriendly eyes and offer safety for us to rest. I shall scout ahead and locate one or two of them that we might be able to use."

"Okay," Tyrion nodded. "Just watch your ass."

Legolas frowned.

"Be careful," Xena said with a smile. "That's what he means."

"Ah," Legolas nodded. "Of course."

He rose and jogged off through the trees.

After he was out of sight, Tyrion sighed. "I suppose you know too, now?"

Xena nodded, suppressing a smile. "About Felix and Gabrielle, yes, I know."

"Well," Tyrion pulled a cigarette out and quickly lit it. "What do you want to do about it?"

"I don't think there's anything we can, or even should do," Xena replied thoughtfully.

She looked over where Felix and Gabrielle were seated together quietly talking, and she saw the smile on Gabrielle's face. It was as if someone had rekindled a light, and Xena saw her friend, whole and complete once more, without the haunted look in her eyes.

"When we get out of here, it's going to be a complete cluster fuck for those two, you know that don't you?" Tyrion said.

"I know," Xena replied. "But at the same time, I don't think we should do anything to prevent what's happening."

"It'll make it harder when they have to split up," Tyrion cautioned.

"If they have to split up, you mean," Xena countered. She turned and looked back at the old soldier. "You're working under the assumption that we'll actually be able to leave here and go back to our respective worlds."

"Yes I am," Tyrion nodded. "I have to."

"And I understand that," Xena nodded. She looked back at the others all going about their business. "But the others may not believe it as much as you do."

She looked back at Tyrion. "There's also a good chance that we may never leave this world, Tyrion. I have to consider that too."

Xena looked back at the others. "We're all dealing with the possibility that we may never leave this place, and it's a frightening thought. Everyone deals with it in his or her own way."

"I do know this." Xena concluded. "I haven't seen Gabrielle genuinely happy for a long time and Felix is the reason for that. If this will help Gabrielle heal after all that she's been through and also alleviate some of their fear by letting them be there for each other, then I would say, let them."

"That's not all they're alleviating," Tyrion grumbled.

Xena smiled suddenly. "You do treat her like she's your daughter."

Tyrion reached into his jacket and pulled a small rectangular screen from inside. He touched the corner and an image appeared.

Xena took the strange object and her eyes went wide when she saw the person in the image. It was the image of a young woman, dressed in the same style of clothing as Tyrion and his friends, standing at the hatch of the ship with one hand leaning casually on the frame of the hatch. She was in an almost comical pose, with her other hand on her hip and grinning mischievously. Xena smiled when she saw the face of the young woman. Aside from a difference in hair color, more brown than Gabrielle's blonde, and the eyes seemed to be darker, it was the image of a young woman almost identical to her best friend.

"Kind of hard not to," Tyrion offered with a shrug.

"This was your daughter?" Xena asked.

"Yup."

"I can see why you could get confused," Xena nodded.

"Oh it's not just the looks," Tyrion smiled. "It's the sound of her voice, her laugh, her little mannerisms, damn near everything. If I don't watch myself, I could end up calling her Lynnette by mistake again, or asking her to do something she has no clue how to do."

"So," Xena offered. "Felix was right then, back in Minas Tirith, when the two of you had your little disagreement."

"Maybe he was," Tyrion shrugged again, exhaling a long cloud of smoke. He flicked the ash off the end of the cigarette thoughtfully. "But there was no way in hell I would have let him know it. The little shit knows too much already." He smiled.

Xena smiled. "Let them be, for now. If things get too crazy, then we can step in."

"Too crazy?" Tyrion looked up at their surroundings. "As opposed to what?"

Legolas returned a short while later.

"I have discovered two flets that are still sturdy enough to hold us. Come with me." He reported.

The party moved quickly in the fading light until they came to the trunk of a large tree.

Legolas easily climbed up into the branches and then a rope ladder unrolled down towards them.

"Quickly," Legolas hissed. "The light is failing."

One by one, they all climbed up into the tree, and emerged through an opening in the center of a large, circular wooden platform mounted upon the branches.

"There's no way I can remember all of these things when I write this down," Gabrielle commented to herself as she emerged on the flet. The trees formed an impenetrable wall, giving it the feel of a small, cozy, enclosed room.

A straight wooden gangway connected this platform to a second one on the opposite side of the tree.

"Well," Gimli grumbled as his bearded head emerged in the opening. "Here we are again."

Tyrion stepped to the edge of the platform and pulled aside several leaves. In the nearby distance he could see the broken spires and walls of Dol-Guldor. He drew out his spotter glasses and adjusted the polarity. Zooming in on the distant edifice, he could make out the remains of several other buildings as well as the parapets and walls that used to encircle the fortress. The area around it was deforested and barren, like a blight on the unbroken green.

A zoomed the imaging in further seeking any signs of movement, and found nothing.

"Well," he said thoughtfully. "Looks quiet enough, for now."

He turned back. "I want watches tonight. Three hour shifts. Silas, you and I take the first one, Mave, Doc, you got the second, Nicky, you take the third."

"I'll take that with you," Xena offered.

Nicolla nodded.

"Unpack and get some sleep folks," Tyrion finished. He noticed Felix studying his data pad.

"Doc?"

"No energy or sonic fields here, boss," Felix shook his head.

"Okay," Tyrion nodded to Silas and indicated the opposite end of the flet, across the gangplank. The big man nodded and lumbered over to a position across from Tyrion, but still within eyesight. Then he turned and peered out through the leaves at the forest below.

Tyrion studied the shadowy forest before him and the deepening purple shadow that were the walls and ruins of the fortress nearby, his entire mind focused upon the task of sensing any potential threat. The are was cool and filled with the moist scent of earth and leaves. Night creatures mingled their various songs, and above his head, the stars twinkled and shone.

Gimli sat against the trunk of the tree, absently polishing the blade of his massive axe.

"We're covering the ground too slowly," he mumbled as Legolas seated himself lightly nearby. "Even if our quarry went to Dol-Guldor, they will be gone from there by now."

"There is that possibility, yes," Legolas nodded.

The dwarf set the axe aside and stowed his gear. He let out a soft huff in frustration.

"You know the only chance of our success relies on getting in front of our opponents before they make the mountain passes." Gimli went on "And as much as I dread making the suggestion, there is only one sure way for us to achieve that."

"There was a time," Legolas said knowingly. "That you would have urged such a course."

"That was before," Gimli replied. "When I still held out hope that my people dwelt in Khazad-Dum." He held up his axe and looked at it closely. "This is all that remains of Khazad-Dum now."

He sighed. "Besides, Our path through would be blocked by the collapses that Gandalf wrought in his battle against the Barlog. And even if we could, the Watcher at the West Gate tore the mountainside down to block that way."

"All true," Legolas nodded. "And yet, there may be a way to best the speed of our adversary while traversing the dark paths of Moria and still avoid the enemy if he dwells within."

"Have you gone daft?" Gimli blurted. "Again you would go underground where I dare not!"

"I merely offer an option," Legolas offered. "We both know that this is the only way to assure our getting ahead of the enemy."

He smiled. "Long have I seen you perusing the ancient maps of your kin. I know that you have more knowledge of the paths beneath Moria than ever before."

"Aye," Gimli replied sarcastically. "I could with ease find my way all the way down to the drowned vaults of Durin himself. That does not mean I'm addled enough to attempt it!"

He brought his voice back in check and looked around. "And I know that not all the orcs and goblins of the mountain abandoned Khazad-Dum after the fall of Sauron, so don't even start trying to tell me that there may not be any orcs left in the place!"

"I would never say anything of the kind." Legolas replied. "Orcs still dwell there, surely. But I believe that our comrades have weapons and abilities that far surpass our last adventure, and that, should we be accosted, they would succeed with little effort."

Gimli sputtered a few moments and then let out a soft "humph", crossing his arms and looking away.

"Would you know of a way that they could take to make the mountain pass ahead of our quarry?" Legolas asked.

Gimli said nothing. He merely grunted again, signifying that the conversation was over.

"I intend to offer this alternative on the morrow," Legolas said suddenly. "After we have finished at Dol-Guldor."

"You'll do nothing of the sort!" Gimli snapped his attention back to the elf. "You have no right to place these off worlders in such peril!"

"Peril is a close companion to all of these people, my friend," Legolas said as he rose to his feet. "Why should this day matter more than the next, or the last?"

"In case you hadn't noticed," Gimli whispered. "Their fancy weapons didn't do us much good against those spiders, did they? If it wasn't for the one they call Felix, we'd all be dead by now!"

"As I said," Legolas replied. "Tyrion and his companions are well versed in the arts of war. Even down to the single man. And I did play a part in your rescue, do not forget."

Gimli offered a simple grunt in response and settled back into his own thoughts.

The night passed without incident. The sun rose in fiery brilliance amidst the clouds shimmering in hues of red and orange upon the leafy canopy around them. The birds awoke and began their songs, and the morning breeze, heavy with dew, tickled their cheeks and noses as they slumbered.

Legolas looked back at the group of slumbering people and smiled as he recalled a similar past event.

"Rise my friends," He said easily. "For it is morning, and we have many leagues to travel."

Gimli snorted in his sleep and rolled over, oblivious. Nicolla squinted against the ray of sunlight piercing the canopy above and covered her eyes as she slowly sat upright.

The rest of the party each awakened with the prerequisite grumbles and groans, all except for Gabrielle, who pulled her blanket further up over her head and rolled back over.

Felix quietly knelt down next to Gabrielle and began whispering in her ear.

No one could hear what was said, but Gabrielle was soon smiling and then laughing quietly.

Nicolla blinked and looked over at the two of them, a sudden flush in her cheeks.

"Okay, that does it," she said. "Gabs, you and I need to have a talk before your man there says another word or you two do anything else."

Gabrielle and Felix looked over at her and then Felix began grinning as he understood the nature of Nicolla's frustration.

"Aha!" he said. "Now I get it."

"Get what?" Tyrion asked. He looked back and forth between Felix and Nicolla.

Nicolla's flushed expression frosted over in warning.

"Nothing important," Felix replied, rising to his feet and strolling across to the other platform. As he passed Nicolla he couldn't resist getting a jab in.

"Hope you enjoyed it as much as we did." He said quietly.

"Fuck you," Nicolla countered with a grin.

"You'd love to," Felix shot back without missing a beat.

"Okay people," Tyrion brought them all together. "We got work to do today." He looked back through the leaves at the ruined buildings ahead.

"Ammo check," he said. "And give me a count on munitions." The last directed at Silas.

They all began inspecting their equipment, double checking the live ammunition clips and stowing away the ones that were spent.

As Felix took his inventory he noticed Gabriele looking into her bag with a slightly haunted expression.

"What's on your mind?" he asked. He paused when she drew out the narrow wooden case containing her remaining pistol and the energy clips that powered them.

Xena saw the weapon when Gabrielle lifted the lid.

"Gabrielle?"

The nervous bard looked back and forth between them and offered a smile.

"I have this," she said. "And I remember what I did with the other one." She looked apologetically at Xena. "And yet, I don't know how this thing works," she finished. "It's kind of strange."

"But you want to know how it works," Felix finished, ascertaining her meaning in the evasive statement.

She looked back at him and after a moment, she nodded.

"Gabrielle," Xena asked. "Are you sure about this?"

"I just want to do my part," Gabrielle nodded after a moment. She looked at Felix and past him to where the others were preparing.

"But I want to learn it," Gabrielle added quickly. "Not just have Nicolla give it to me, you know?"

Felix shrugged and then looked over at Xena, silently deferring to her judgment in this matter.

Xena considered carefully. "Are you sure about this, Gabrielle?" she asked again. "I mean really sure?"

Gabrielle nodded after a few moments. "I'm sure."

Xena nodded. "Okay." She gave Felix a permissive nod.

"Righto," Felix smiled.

He took the case from Gabrielle's hands and removed the weapon and the two short clips.

"Now," he began by holding one of the clips up. "This one is empty so we'll practice with it."

He scooted closer to Gabrielle and set the pistol and expended clip on the ground before her.

"Now," he went on. "Nicky removed all the knowledge but she couldn't remove the experiences, you understand?"

Gabrielle frowned but nodded.

"And in your experience, you used this before, so," he shrugged. "It's like going through the motions. Just think back to that night."

"I'd rather not," Gabrielle sighed, recalling her murderous rampage against her friends.

"Well, I can understand that," Felix nodded. "But that's where the basics still reside."

He nudged the two components a little closer.

"Just count it out," he continued. "One, two, three, four."

Gabrielle looked down at the alien weapon before her. Her gut twitched nervously even as she desired the ability to use it.

"One, two three, four," she repeated.

"Don't worry about the understanding part," Felix continued. "Just do it."

"One, two, three, four," Gabrielle repeated a few times as she dredged up the memory of that night, "One, two, three, four." Moving like dangerous wraith among the trees as she fired her weapon at her friends, "One, two, three, four." The clip had emptied, "One, two, three, four." She needed to reload.

She moved.

One – She lifted the pistol in her right hand.

Two – The clip in the left hand.

Three – She slapped the clip into the grip of the weapons with a sharp smack and,

Four – With a deft motion, she pulled back the cocking mechanism and heard the pop as the primer locked into place.

It took a moment for her to realize she had done it purely on instinct.

"Oh wow," she gasped. "I did it."

She looked up at Felix and inadvertently pointed the weapon at him. His hand rose quickly and intercepted it, pointing it back down and away from any potential victims.

"And that's why we're using the dead clip," he said with a smile. He indicated the safety switch on the weapon. "Now, even with this on, it's important that you never point this at anyone or anything you don't want to shoot. And never point this thing at yourself no matter what, period. Always treat one of these things as if they're loaded and ready to go off, got it?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Okay," Felix smiled. "Come on."

The two of them descended the ladder to the forest floor below.

Once on the ground, Felix drew and unloaded his own pistol.

"Remember what I said about kneecaps?" he asked.

Gabrielle nodded.

"Okay," Felix said. "Same thing applies. Put your finger on the trigger. Don't pull it. Just rest your finger on it gently."

Gabrielle did as instructed and instantly, the narrow blue beam of light appeared, ending as a small pale blue dot on a nearby tree.

"If the weapon was live and you squeezed the trigger," Felix explained. "That blue dot is where your shot would hit, understand? Take your finger off the trigger to deactivate the laser sight."

Gabrielle did so and smiled in understanding.

"Your finger completes the circuit that allows the sight to function," Felix explained. "Once your finger no longer touches the trigger, the sight switches off."

"Okay," Gabrielle experimented with that for a few moments, gently touching the trigger and watching as the blue light appeared and vanished at her touch. "I think I understand it."

"Now," Felix continued. "When you hold this thing, don't lock your elbows." He moved behind her and adjusted her grip on the weapon.

Gabrielle smiled as he moved up close against her. The intimacy of the position threatened distraction for her.

"Focus now darling," Felix said with a smile. His soft breath was hot against her neck and she felt the heat rush to her cheeks.

"Knock it off you two!" Nicolla's hissed from above.

The two of them smiled at each other.

"Okay," Gabrielle forced the thoughts aside. "Okay. I have to focus on this now. Have to focus."

The rest of the group descended a short time later and began moving off through the trees towards the ruins of Dol-Guldor. As they did, Felix continued his lessons with Gabrielle, teaching her how to move with the weapon, always pointing the weapons where she was looking, moving around trees and other obstacles they encountered with quick cautious grace.

They reached the edge of the trees near mid day. The forest ended suddenly, opening to a wide flat expanse of land that stretched between the boughs of the wood to the ruined circle of stone that had once been the walls of the imposing fortress of Dol-Guldor.

The party remained within the edge of the trees, scanning the broken battlements for any movement.

Silas, Mavon, and Tyrion were all scanning the edifice with their spotters glasses.

"You got anything?" Mavon asked.

"Nothing," Silas rumbled. "Boss?"

"Looks quiet," Tyrion nodded. "Deserted and quiet."

"Too quiet?" Xena asked with a soft smirk.

"Yup, that's the kind of quiet I was thinking." Tyrion nodded. He looked back at the others.

"Okay, Si with me, Mavon Felix next, Xena Legolas and Gimli, and then Nicky and Gabs cover our six." He smiled at Nicolla. "You don't mind working with the rookie again, do you?"

Nicolla looked sidelong at Gabrielle. The bard drew out the live clip and loaded her pistol, slipping it into a holster beneath her left arm. Then she deployed her pole arm and smiled back.

"Nope," she said. "We'll be ready to bail you clowns out again."

"Ooo," Mavon grinned. "I detect attitude."

"Just a smidge," Felix replied as he primed his rifle.

"Button it up folks," Tyrion ordered. "Ten yard gaps, on my lead."

He looked at Silas who nodded and the two of them raised their rifles and stepped smoothly from concealment. They move quickly towards the ruined entrance.

Once they were about thirty feet away, Mavon and Felix emerged, following their trail.

Xena, Legolas and Gimli followed a little sooner than the others, and then Nicolla and Gabrielle at the end.

Nicolla turned around frequently, her large rifle panning the forest behind them in case anything lay in wait to ambush them from behind.

She noticed Gabrielle's eyes darting to and fro as she tried to watch everything at once.

"Walk in the park Gabby," Nicolla said quietly. "Just stay loose and keep moving." Her hand reached up and activated her com.

"Okay folks," Tyrion ordered. "Breach and secure out buildings on my call."

"We're good, chief," Felix responded dutifully.

Tyrion and Silas reached the gates and each took a position on either side of the ruined edifice, their weapons panning across the interior of the place

Felix and Mavon took up positions next to Silas and Tyrion while Nicolla and Gabrielle formed a rear guard with Xena, Legolas and Gimli in the center of the protected ring.

"Right," Tyrion pointed into the courtyard at a small group of cabin like structures with broken walls and collapsed roofs.

"Two," he continued. "Sweep and clear."

Then he gestured to a series of dilapidated structures straddling one of the walls off to their left.

"Three," he continued. "Check those for activity."

Then he pointed to a series of stables and abandoned workshops off to their left. "Si and I will take those. Xena, and the rest move through to the main structure and hold at the entrance."

Everyone acknowledged the orders.

"Execute," Tyrion breathed.

Instantly, Felix and Mavon trotted smoothly off to the right towards the cabins while Tyrion and Silas moved to the workshops on the left.

Nicolla and Gabrielle ducked through an archway and ascended a set of stairs to the parapet running along the wall, making their way around towards the first of the wooden structures.

Gabrielle instantly realized that her pole arm would be at a sever disadvantage in that structure.

Nicolla moved forward to the entrance of a watch tower straddling the wall. She stopped and knelt, panning her weapon through the doorway. Behind her, she heard the familiar metallic clicks indicating Gabrielle had stowed her weapon.

"Gabby," she whispered. "Remember. Don't point that thing anywhere you aren't looking, and not at me at all, got it?"

Gabrielle cradled the small pistol in her hands, pointing it down and away from both of them.

"I understand," she nodded nervously.

"Okay sweetie," Nicolla continued. "You watch our backs, I'll watch our front."

Again Gabrielle nodded.

"Go," Nicolla moved through the tower, her eyes taking in the room and above before passing quickly out onto the next section of the walkway.

"Tower one, clear," she said quietly.

"Cabins one, two, and three, clear," Mavon said a few moments later.

"Stables clear, no movement," Silas rumbled a few moments after that.

Nicolla reached up and gently tried the catch on the rotting wooden door before her. It crumbled like cheese in her fingers. She grasped the decrepit door and pulled. It fell away from frozen hinges and dropped to the ground, shattering into large, fibrous chunks on the packed earth below.

The lamp on the end of Nicolla's weapon flared to life, panning around the structure. Several rows of beds lay against the wall on her left and other pieces of furniture were strewn about he place in disarray, but again, there was no movement.

The two girls edged further into the room. "Barracks clear," Nicolla reported. "No movement."

She glanced down and spied the small blue laser dot on the floor off to her left. She smiled. "Doing fine Gabby."

The soft wood creaked and groaned gently as they edged past the boney remains of something, piled in the corner. Gabrielle gave it a cursory examination before moving on.

"Cabins four, five, and six, all clear," Felix reported. "We're clear."

"Move to the wall on the north side and sweep that. Link up with the girls." Tyrion ordered.

"Confirmed," Mavon replied. "Rolling."

Nicolla and Gabrielle emerged from the opposite end of the wooden barracks a few moments later. They saw Mavon and Felix moving through the yard off to the side, their weapons scanning the surroundings for any movement.

There was a wet creaking sound and then the entire wooden structure rolled backwards and collapsed into the courtyard with a dull crash.

"Check! Check! Check!" Felix called urgently in a low voice.

Gabrielle and Nicolla took a moment to catch their breath, looking back and down at the pile of rotting timber below them.

"All clear," Nicolla reported. "We're all clear."

Gabrielle looked down and saw Felix looking back up at them, concern on his face.

"Don't do that to me," He whispered.

"Focus people," Tyrion interrupted. "South wall clear, moving west. Two, link up with the girls and meet us by the northwest corner."

"Confirmed," Felix replied.

Legolas, Gimli and Xena moved swiftly to the battered doors that led into the keep of Dol-Guldor.

Xena risked a quick peek inside and found nothing moving in the shadowy chamber.

She then turned and joined her two companions in watching Tyrion and his team moving quickly through the courtyard.

Her eyes drifted back and up to where Gabrielle followed Nicolla along the upper edge of the wall.

The disparity in skill level between the two women was instantly apparent. Gabrielle's face was tight, flushed with anxiety as she tried to focus upon all the things she was responsible for.

By contrast, Nicolla's expression was set, calm, and neutral. Her eyes constantly absorbed the environment around her as she moved easily along her route.

She began to understand just how proficient Tyrion and his people actually were at the arts of war, and the realization sent a slight shiver up her spine.

One moment, the band of off world fighters could be relaxed, outgoing and gregarious to the point of appearing obnoxious. At a moment's notice, they could transform themselves into a cool, efficient, lethal cohesive unit.

The dichotomy was both fascinating and disturbing to her. Yes, there had been many times in her past where she had been forced to subsume or suppress her sense of compassion, but even during the most brutal moments she could feel it in her gut, reaching out in sympathy to those in pain, even those she had been forced to kill.

When she observed Gabrielle, she could see it in greater measure on the face of the young bard. She held a weapon in her hands and prayed to the Gods that she would not have to use it.

Nicolla had a weapon in her hands and had no compunction about using it.

A protective sense of concern came over Xena and she wondered if, perhaps, her association with Tyrion and his friends might not be the best for the impressionable bard, never mind the fact that Gabrielle had already become involved with one of them.

In a moment, the concerns that Tyrion had been voicing for some time became clear. The words spoken in a tent on the plains of Rohan came back to her with a new sense of depth and meaning.

"_Our styles of warfare are worlds apart, literally."_

Perhaps it was more than just the way they waged war that differed? Perhaps the attitudes and ideology of many other things were different. They were like her, but at the same time, she suddenly reminded herself that Tyrion and his friends were, by their very nature, alien to her and her world.

And there was her best friend attempting to emulate their behaviors.

The six of them emerged from around the face of the ruined tower, rejoining the trio by the door.

"Grounds are empty," Tyrion commented. He and Silas stepped past Xena and the others, taking up a place alongside the open door.

"Okay folks," Tyrion continued as he edged closer to the entrance. "By teams. Nicky, you and Gabs secure this entrance. Doc and Mave go right, Silas and I left. Ready?"

They all nodded.

There was a subtle shimmer in the air just above them and then a loud thud impacted the ground just behind. They all wheeled a round as a crouching figure materialized from a corona of blue energy.

In one body, they all turned and pointed their weapons at the intruder. Gabrielle let out a sharp frightened squeal.

Xena's hand drew her chakram on impulse.

Gimli's axe seemed to leap from his back into his waiting hands, and Legolas had his bow drawn and an arrow notched and bent in the blink of an eye.

The armored Kajano giant growled his clicking growl as he rose, the two plasma cannons on either shoulder swiveling from one member of the party to the other.

"Agran?" Felix asked.

The big alien nodded once.

"Fuck me raw!" Mavon blurted. He snapped his weapon back towards the ground and stepped in front of the behemoth. "What the hell are you trying to do? Give us all freaking heart attacks?"

Another growl that may have been the equivalent of a chuckle emanated from behind the mask.

"What are you doing here?" Tyrion asked.

"_What are you doing here,"_ Agran grated.

They all relaxed. "Breathe." Nicolla quipped. "That's what we're trying to do."

"Okay," Tyrion turned back to the half open entrance. "Let's try this again."

Agran strode past him and pushed the door open, unconcerned.

"Why do I get the feeling he's already cleared the place?" Silas asked.

"Probably because he has," Tyrion nodded, lowering his rifle and following the big alien into the main chamber.

The interior of the ruins consisted of a single large open chamber with here and there, ruined sections of walls supporting the crumbling ceiling.

Openings in the ceiling and a couple of ruined stair cases offered access to the floor above. Dust and cobwebs filled the air.

Dirt and rubble covered the floor, and piles of broken stone lay against some of the remaining sections of wall.

Gimli suddenly let out a thunderous sneeze.

"Well," Felix smiled. "Everyone knows we're here now."

The dwarf offered him a quick glare before stepping further into the chamber.

Rough paths had been forced through the debris by intelligent hands recently.

Legolas stepped up next to him, surveying the wreckage.

"What say you, old friend?" he asked. "Is it safe for us to remain here?"

Gimli experimentally patted one of the remaining walls and studied it critically.

"It's seen better days," he grumbled. "But it's still fairly solid."

Xena and Gabrielle moved off to one side, carefully picking their way around several other piles of garbage.

Xena noticed and Gabrielle still held her pistol in her hands.

"Maybe you should stick with something more traditional," she offered by way of suggestion.

Gabrielle frowned and then slid the weapon back into its holster, drawing the pole arm from the sheath at her hip.

The metal extended out to its full length and a ripple of blue/white energy encircled the ends.

"Where'd Agran go?" Mavon asked.

As if in answer, he spied the alien standing at the edge of an opening in the ceiling, looking down at him from the next floor up.

"_Here,"_ The big creature beckoned.

Felix and Mavon looked at one another and nodded.

"Boss," Mavon called. "We're going up one level."

Tyrion looked back and nodded to them before he and Silas continued their reconnoiter of the main floor.

The floor above showed the same dilapidated condition as the one before, with walls cracked or crumbling and the doorways to numerous chambers left open or with rotting timbers hanging ajar on rusted hinges.

"I don't know," Felix said thoughtfully. "A little paint, some curtains and I could go for a place like this."

Agran paused and looked back at Felix before resuming his search.

Mavon offered a soft snort and followed.

Felix looked at the two of them and grinned. "What?"

The last two chambers seemed to have been better maintained than the rest, with solid, newer doors on well oiled hinges.

"Hello," Mavon raised an eyebrow. "What do we have here?"

He reached down and tried the latch.

"Locked," he muttered. He stepped back and dropped his pack on the ground, searching for something to blast the latch open.

"Hey Chief?" Mavon called over the com.

Agran stepped up and looked down at the primitive latch and then one of his cannons flashed. The latch and some of the surrounding door material exploded with a sharp crack.

"Uh, fire in the hole?" Mavon finished.

"You guys all right?" Tyrion called.

"Yeah, we're good, Boss," Felix reported. "Agran just doesn't believe in wasting any time, that's all."

The big alien pushed the door aside and stepped through into the dark chamber beyond.

"Hey!" Mavon hissed. "Hold up, will you!"

He and Felix moved to follow.

Hey entered the chamber and stopped short. All around them in the roughly oval space were stone slabs protruding from the wall.

A central slab in the middle of the chamber, covered in dust and wreckage.

"What the hell?" Felix whispered. "Hey Chief, you better get up here. I think you and Si need to see this."

A second doorway lay across the trash strewn floor on the opposite side of the chamber. Agran was already moving through it and Mavon was quickly following.

"What have you got?" Tyrion asked.

"I think we found an infirmary," Felix replied. "Or a lab."

Mavon emerged from the opposite entrance. "Doc, I need you! We got a live one up here!"

Felix stepped through the open doorway and stopped short in horror.

She hung, limp in the center of a circular chamber, cold dark iron encircling and cutting into her wrists. She was nude except for some moldering remnants of cloth that may at one time have been a tunic of some kind. Her hair was dirty and matted and her skin was pale.

All over her sides and back were scrapes and gashes that could only have been caused by the rending of claws.

"God damn," Felix gasped.

Mavon was standing before her, gently raising her head to look at her.

At his touch she began struggling weakly. Soft, pained whimpers emerged from her cracked lips.

"Easy, easy," Mavon said with uncharacteristic compassion. "We're here to help."

Her head lolled forward and she slipped again into unconciousness.

Felix had his medical kit out stepped up to the young woman. He reached up to take a pulse at her neck, gently brushing some stray hair aside. That was when he noticed her ears.

They were normal except for where they curved gracefully to a point at the top.

"Elvishini," He whispered. He turned and called softly, "Xena? Gabs?"

"Yes?" Xena replied.

"Get Legolas up here, fast. We just found one of his people."

He studied the manacles and found they were simply bolted and did not need a key.

"Mave," he said. "Hold onto her."

Felix quickly opened the iron cuffs and the semi conscious woman fell into Mavon's arms.

He scooped her up and followed Felix and Agran out into the main chamber.

They lay her upon one of the stone slabs near the wall, and Felix placed one folded blanket under her head while a second was used to cover her.

The matted hair fell aside and revealed the face of the creature beneath.

Mavon froze, awestruck as he beheld her. She had the face of a doll, soft and beautiful in spite of the trauma. Her head fell to one side and her features creased into something resembling a frown.

Felix was gently checking her for injuries as she lay whimpering in dark dreams.

"What's wrong with her?" Mavon asked.

Felix shook his head. "She's had the shit kicked out of her. Aside from that, I can't be sure."

Mavon frowned.

"She's not sapien like you and me, Mave," Felix explained. "For all I know, my meds could kill her." He drew out his canteen and moistened a bandage. Gently, he began cleaning the grime away from her face and hands, cleaning and dressing the cuts and scrapes on her wrists.

"It's like when we busted in and found Xe," Mavon commented.

Felix finished his ministrations and dressed the wounds on her arms and hands, then he continued with his examination, his hands gently probing around the woman's ribs and abdomen.

"Nothing broken," He commented as he worked. He frowned and paused near her belly and then he reached beneath the blanket and checked it again.

"What the?" He carefully moved the blanket aside, exposing her leg and he checked the region. His gaze went hard and his jaw tightened. "Son of a bitch."

"What?" Mavon asked.

Felix covered the woman back up again and gently lifted the lids of her eyes. The iris's beneath were a startling blue, and the black pupil shrank reflexively at the intrusive light of his small torch.

Footsteps echoed behind him and he turned to see his companions all file into the chamber.

"Just give us some room here," Felix held up a hand to stay them. "Last thing she needs is a bunch of faces hovering over her."

He nodded to Legolas. "You might want to be here though."

"What happened to her?" Gabrielle asked.

Felix turned back to her with a grim expression. Instantly, Gabrielle understood what had happened.

"Gods," She breathed.

The woman's features creased into a delicate frown and her head moved slightly from side to side.

"She wakes," Legolas said softly.

"Easy," Felix cautioned. "She may be waking up, but that doesn't mean she'll be coherent."

Her lips moved and soft words emanated from her lips. The language was strange and Legolas leaned closer to hear her.

"She speaks Quendi," He said quickly. He leaned next to her ear and whispered to her softly.

Her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice and she tried to focus on the room around her. They filled with fear when she saw Felix.

"It's okay," He said gently. "It's okay. We aren't going to hurt you."

"Master Felix," Legolas asked suddenly. "Would you and the others please leave us for a moment?"

Felix looked back at the others and then down at the girl lying on the pallet before him.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "She's pretty unstable at the moment. She might,"

"Please," Legolas interrupted him. "If there are any problems, I will call for you."

"You sure?" Felix asked.

The earnest expression in the elf's eyes softened a bit and he smiled. "I am certain."

Felix reluctantly stowed his gear and stepped away. "Okay. Anything goes wonko, you call me."

"I understand," Legolas nodded.

"I mean anything," Felix continued. Then he stopped himself and motioned for Mavon, still hovering by the dark archway.

Mavon pushed himself off the wall and walked back to the others.

"Legs needs a minute," he said to the others. "Everybody out."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

"It's all right, Chief," Felix added before he could protest. "Just give them a second, alright?"

The party filed silently out of the room.

Once in the corridor beyond, they split into a couple of groups, with Felix, Mavon, Nicolla, and Tyrion moving off a little ways away to hold a private conversation.

Silas, Xena, Gabrielle, and Gimli remained close to the door just in case Legolas called to them.

Agran removed himself to the shadows nearby and vanished in a gentle sparkle of energy as his stealth net activated.

"Okay," Tyrion absently rubbed his chin. He looked at Felix intently. "Give me the low down."

"She's in bad shape, Chief," Felix reported. "I mean really, really bad. She's obviously been here for quite some time, perhaps years."

"Years?" Nicolla asked.

Felix nodded.

"Her physical condition is atrophied to such an extent that she probably won't be able to walk unassisted for a while. Even if there weren't psychological trauma, the physical recuperation is going to take weeks, maybe even months." Felix explained.

"Go on," Tyrion nodded.

"She's severely dehydrated and malnourished," Felix said. "And she's been interrogated extensively."

"Tortured?" Tyrion asked. His eyes flicked towards Xena as the memory of his first adventure with her returned.

"I'd bet my left nut on it," Felix nodded. "And tortured bad too."

"What did they do?" Nicolla asked.

Felix sighed. "She's been raped, though the term rape in this case would be saying it nicely. Savaged would be more accurate, and more than once." He looked down at his data pad and studied the readouts. "The marks on her body and arms are indicative of claws, not nail scratches, and the spacing and size of the marks would indicate a creature our size or a little larger."

"Great Maker," Nicolla breathed in terror.

"Also," Felix took a breath. "Based on these physical parameters, she's also given birth within the last three months."

"Given birth?" Mavon's jaw dropped. "In this shit hole?"

Felix nodded. "Based on the amount of internal scarring picked up here," He held the pad up. "I would say the episodes were timed to allow her to gestate an offspring before the assaults would resume."

Tyrion's gaze went dark.

Nicolla couldn't stay silent any longer. "Let me see those readings," she reached for the pad and studied it carefully.

"Are you sure these are accurate?" she asked a few moments later as confusion creased her brow.

"Not without doing an actual physical examination," Felix admitted. "But somehow I don't think that's going to happen."

"What's on your mind Nicky?" Tyrion asked.

Nicolla shook her head, framing her words carefully.

"Everything about her mind feels more recent." She shook her head helplessly.

Mavon cleared his throat deliberately and held out his hand.

"Would this factor into things?" He asked.

They all looked down and saw in his palm the blackened remains of a stone. It was about the size of his thumb and multifaceted, but dark like a lump of coal.

"One of the recording crystals," Nicolla shrank away slightly.

"But burnt out," Felix nodded, taking the stone from Mavon's palm and studying it closely. "Where'd you find this?"

Mavon shrugged. "The floor was littered with them in there. I thought it was roof debris at first until I saw this one near the entrance."

"How many?" Felix's tone had darkened.

"I don't know," Mavon replied. "Hundreds?"

"Hundreds?" Tyrion asked.

Felix and Nicolla looked at one another, paling in horror.

"Does that mean she's," Nicolla's voice caught.

Felix only nodded.

"Care to explain it?" Tyrion asked impatiently.

Felix lowered his voice so the rest of the party wouldn't overhear him.

"She's been cloned, like I was," he explained. "The only difference is that she's been cloned over and over."

"How many times?" Mavon asked.

"How many stones are in there, Mave?" Felix replied. He thought for a minute and it showed on his face.

"What's on your mind, Doc?" Tyrion asked.

"It ain't pretty," Felix replied. "When Gabs and I were translating docs in the library at Minas Tirith, we went through a lot of history. Some of it had to do with the origins of certain beings, like the Orcs."

"And?" Tyrion rolled a hand forward.

Felix closed his eyes as he tried to recall the information he and Gabrielle had discovered. They had moved past it quickly because of Gabrielle's reaction to it.

"First age records," Felix recited. "Melkor created the first Orcs by capturing elves and twisting them. The parchment was vague and mysterious as to methods but I would assume psychological and genetic manipulation to some degree, then utilizing the cloning chambers in the Seedling Vessels to grow an army."

"The Orc pits, as Legolas described them," Tyrion nodded.

Felix held a hand out. "But manipulation only gets you so far. At some point you need to integrate what you've come up with into a new base template. Something stronger and more adaptable to its environment that can be used as a base variable before you go on to the next level of experimentation, at the same time, you need an infusion of untainted genetic material in order to keep the longevity viable enough for the result to survive, follow?"

Tyrion and Mavon shook their heads while Nicolla nodded.

"Felix," Nicolla began.

"She's a breeder," Felix whispered. "She was used to breed Orcs until her body wore out and then she was killed, reconstituted and the process continued, over and over and over for, Hell, who knows how long?"

No one spoke for a long moment. What was there to say that was appropriate to the level of horror they had stumbled into.

"We need to know how long she's been in this." Nicolla finally breathed.

"More to the point," Felix interjected. "How recently. Some of the scarring was fairly recent, within a few weeks at most. She could be carrying right now."

"Carrying?" Tyrion asked. "As in?"

"The next stage in Orc evolution," Felix shrugged. "There's no real way to know?"

"And again," Tyrion sighed. "They leave something behind designed to slow us down."

All eyes fixed on Tyrion.

"Oh come on you guys," Tyrion whispered. "Why else is she still alive? Certainly not out of kindness."

Something flickered near the entrance and they all turned to see Legolas leading the female elf slowly out into the hall.

"Damn," Felix whispered. "That was quick."

"These are my friends," Legolas said gently. "None of them will harm you."

Large, frightened blue eyes took the strangers in. as she stood trembling, wrapped in Legolas's spare cloak.

"I present the Lady Celebrian," Legolas then said to the others. "Daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and sister to the Lady Arwen."

Of all the assembled people, only Gimli reacted.

"That's impossible!" He blurted as he got to his feet. "Everyone knows that the Lady Celebrian died ere the beginning of the second age!"

"The full tale of the Lady Celebrian has never been told, and it was believed among my people that the daughter of the Golden Wood still remained, though I cannot think upon how she has endured the passing ages in a place such as this."

"We can discuss that later," Felix replied. He moved past the pair, giving the traumatized female a wide berth and ducked back into the chamber. The lamp beneath the barrel of his rifle activated and he entered the cell.

When the beam of light fell on the floor of the cell, the claim of Legolas was easily verified. Dozens of blackened crystals lay scattered across the floor, or piled in small discarded heaps in the corners. In one area, the floor had given way and within the dusty remains below, he spied even more of the stones, lying like dead insects amidst the rubble.

"Gimli," He called back to the hall. "Trust me, it's her!"

He studied the cell that had been the existence of this woman for countless eons and he felt outrage rising in his belly.

"No doubt about it," He finished quietly. "No doubt about it at all."

They all sat or stood in the corridor as Legolas led Celebrian to place where she could sit somewhat comfortably. Her large crystal blue eyes looked furtively at the myriad of faces around her.

It was obvious why the woman had been left behind as she had, and Silas came to the same conclusion as the others.

She had been a plant, something more to slow them down and keep them off the trail. Even though the woman was on her feet, she was still very week and could only manage slowly and for short periods of time.

"I fear it will take many days for her to heal," Legolas commented. "And each day's delay only aids in the victory of our enemy."

No one said anything.

"I fear that we have only one hope of intercepting our enemy before they reach the safety of their stronghold." Legolas continued. His eyes focused on Gimli.

Tyrion looked at the earnest elf and his very reluctant companion.

Gimli grumbled behind the thick whiskers of his beard and fidgeted uneasily.

"Gimli?" Tyrion asked. "You know something we don't?"

"I know many things you do not!" Gimli replied gruffly.

"Regarding our current situation?" Tyrion pressed.

Gimli let out a humph and crossed his arms over his chest.

"They must know, my friend," Legolas urged him. "There is no time left."

"Must know what?" Xena asked.

"Gimli?" Nicolla asked, sensing the dwarf's reluctance.

Gimli looked from one to the other before sighing loudly.

"There may be a way to get past the mountains and ahead of our quarry before they make it to the top of the Red Horn Gate." He finally admitted.

"You know a short cut?" Mavon asked

"I said 'may be'," Gimli said gruffly. "None of my people have walked the paths I speak of for many years now."

"Not true," Legolas said. "We walked through there ere the beginning of this age."

"And when we emerged, Gandalf was gone!" Gimli said angrily. "You remember that laddy?"

"I do," Legolas nodded. "And I remember Mithrandir rejoining us here in this very forest."

"The memory of that place is filled with evil," Gimli grumbled. "I went there to find proof that my kin had returned and what did we find?" He drew his axe and held it up. "Bones and this!"

"Excuse me fellas," Tyrion interrupted them. "But if you two are saying that there's a way to make up the time we have lost, then I want to hear it, no matter how bad it may be."

"We speak of Khazad-Dum," Legolas said. "Known by my people as Moria. It was the ancient kingdom of the dwarves, delved over centuries into the very heart of the Misty Mountains."

Legolas looked at Tyrion. "Instead of taking the long road, which winds much before you climb the pass, you could save days and take the short path through the mountain."

"Could we?" Tyrion looked at Gimli.

Gimli grumbled a bit more before he closed his eyes and nodded.

"But understand me now!" He added suddenly. "The name of Moria is an evil name! There are nightmares within that place that we should not disturb!"

Tyrion looked over at Xena. "What do you think?"

Xena shrugged. "If it will get us where we need to go in time, I'm all for it."

"Alas," Legolas added. "I shall not be able to go with you."

"Why not?" Silas asked.

Legolas looked over at the mute Celebrian. "It is my duty to return the Lady Celebrian home to Lothlorien. Perhaps in the ancient realm of her people, under the stars, she will find the strength to heal again before she travels west."

At the mention of her home, Celebrian's eyes fixed on Legolas, and for the first time, a small sparkle of hope was kindled.

"After," Legolas continued. "I would, of course, make haste to rejoin you before you entered Angmar, if that be our destiny."

Tyrion considered that for a moment. He looked sidelong at Nicolla.

"Can you help her?" he asked, indicating Celebrian.

Nicolla was taken aback slightly. "Yeah, I think I could, over time, why?"

"What's on your mind, Boss?" Silas asked.

"How far away is Lothlorien?" Tyrion went on.

"It would take us the better part of a fortnight to reach it with the Lady in her current state." Legolas replied.

"And there could be other problems that arise too," Tyrion went on. "Problems related to her current condition?"

Legolas nodded. "Time will tell."

They could all see the internal debate in Tyrion's eyes.

"Okay," He finally nodded. "We'll find a safe place to set up camp tonight, and tomorrow, we split up."

"We what?" Felix blurted.

"Doc," Tyrion continued. "You, Mavon, and Nicolla will go with Legolas and make sure the young lady recovers. Xena, Gabs, Silas, Gimli and I will continue after our friends and take this underground shortcut."

"Now just a damned," Felix blurted.

"Okay Chief," Mavon reached up and put a hand on Felix's shoulder as he cut off the protest.

"If we manage to get in front of these guys, they may retreat back east and try another route. That should put you guys in a decent position to hit them from the other side."

"What about Agran?" Mavon asked. "I know the big fella's lurking about here somewhere?"

"He's Kajano," Tyrion shrugged. "He can go where he wants."

"You're serious about this?" Felix asked.

Tyrion nodded. "It's necessary, I think."

"But," Felix pressed.

"At what point did you think this was a discussion?" Tyrion's voice dropped a notch. "It's done."

Felix looked over towards Gabrielle and saw his own disappointment mirrored in her gaze.

"He's doing this to us on purpose," Gabrielle said to him a short while later, when they had some time alone. "He found out about what we did and now he's going out of his way to keep us apart!"

Felix smiled and shook his head.

"It's fun to think that, but he's actually not." He sighed. "Me and Mavon have the expertise in jungle survival that Legolas could use while we take," He frowned as he tried to remember the name of the young woman.

"What was her name again?" He asked after a moment.

"Celebrian," Gabrielle replied.

"Yeah, her." Felix nodded. "And Gimli is a dwarf, I guess they're underground specialists or something. Makes sense that he go with the other group."

"And lumping Xena and I in with them is for what?" Gabrielle said angrily.

"Moving the two of you toward any possible resolution to this mess," Felix replied. "Which is what Xena requested, and since she won't go anywhere without her evil twin," he gestured to Gabrielle and smiled. "Then that pretty much settles it."

"It's just unfair," Gabrielle sighed.

"Yeah, it is that," Felix wrapped his arms around her and looked into her eyes. "Look, Mave and I can move pretty quick when we need too. I don't think we'll be too far behind you once we get Legolas and his new friend back home."

"You forgot her name again, didn't you?" Gabrielle said with a knowing smile.

"No," Felix lied.

She actually laughed quietly, which was what Felix had been trying to accomplish in their discussion.

"Here's a thought," He said quickly. "When this whole ride is finally over why don't the two of us meet up somewhere and spend some time away from all this craziness?"

"How?" Gabrielle asked. "You live in a completely different world?"

"Yeah, but my world has transportation." Felix smiled. "Nothing saying I can't take a sneaky trip out to you. Who knows? Any nice resorts on your world?"

Gabrielle squeezed him tightly.

A soft puff of dust slipped from the crevices in the ceiling above them.

Felix looked up and frowned.

He looked up and down the deserted corridor.

"What's that?" He sniffed.

"What?" Gabrielle asked, looking up at him.

Felix sniffed again and looked down towards the others.

"Mave!" He called. His partner looked his way. "You smell that?"

Mavon sniffed a couple times and then nodded.

"Am I going loopy?" He called back.

Felix shook his head as he led Gabrielle back to the others.

"No, it's Cryonol." Felix frowned. He also got confirmation from Tyrion's expression.

"It wasn't there before," Tyrion added.

"No, it just started," Felix nodded.

"What's Cryonol?" Gabrielle asked. "It smells a little like when we found you?"

"It's a nutrient solution," Felix said quickly, pulling his data pad free and adjusting the controls. He began turning, pointing the instrument around him.

"It's also highly volatile," Felix went on. "If it isn't handled properly."

"Why do I have a feeling our little break is over?" Silas got to his feet.

"Evac now!" Felix shouted suddenly. "Everyone out!"

They escorted the still wobbly Celebrian down the stairs and past the main doors of the ruined tower.

As they neared the exit, Felix stopped and turned, panning around with his data pad.

Tyrion stood by the door and looked at him questioningly.

"One sec," He said quickly, following the information. "Concentration's higher this way."

He moved into the central chamber of the tower, identical to the layout of Orthanc and found himself staring at the open door opposite his entrance, the same door that would have led to the private study at the previous location.

"Doc," Tyrion called over his earpiece. "What have you got?"  
"Don't know yet," Felix replied, moving to the open doorway.

The bitter tang assailed his nostrils leaving a foul taste in his mouth. There was something beneath the antiseptic odor that bothered him, something foul, almost corrupt.

Then he understood. It was old chemicals. Proper use would allow for the chemicals to be used and then recycled back to their pure form, better to prevent any mutations during a growth cycle, but this chemical had the air of having been used for a long, long time.

"Volatility concentration is at close to seventy percent and rising," Felix reported.

"Someone so much as strikes a match in this place and it'll all go up." He studied his data pad closely as the computer extrapolated the data around him.

"Signs point to a containment breach in a primary storage reservoir," He went on. Then he heard a rumbling noise that wasn't the typical language of settling earth.

His mind drew the inevitable conclusion and dread settled in his gut.

"Get clear!" He called to the others. "Get clear of the outer walls as fast as you can!"

"What's on your mind Felix?" Silas asked.

Felix moved into the next chamber, and coughed as the gasses assailed his lungs.

"Shit!" He hacked. There was an opening to his left leading down into the depths and he could see the wispy bluish gas sliding past the arch and up towards the ceiling, collecting like a vaporous wraith near the ceiling.

He crouched lower to the ground and edged towards the opening.

"It's not a breach of a reservoir," He corrected himself.

From the depths below he could hear it, moving and rustling, with grunts and snarls like an angry beast, always moving closer.

Something howled in fury below and there was the crash of something large being shattered against stone.

"Oh Hell!" He called. "Chief, we got us an active cloning facility down there and it sounds like it just let its batches out!"

"Felix, get the hell out of there!" Tyrion ordered.

"On my way!" Felix replied. "Are you guys clear?"

"Clear enough!" Tyrion shot back. "Move it!"

Felix looked down at his vest and saw the grenade hanging on his chest. An idea hit him and he dislodged the explosive. He quickly opened the detonator cap and fiddled with the contacts on the fuse. His lungs burned in the acrid environment and his watering eyes looked from his task to the opening and the rising mass of fury approaching. He needed to work quickly. His weapons were useless in this environment. If he fired a single shot, he knew the resulting firestorm would kill him almost instantly.

"Orcs," He muttered as he worked. "I'm really, really starting to hate Orcs."

He finished his task, inspected it quickly, and then pulled the pin free of the grenade and hurled it into the dark stairwell.

As soon as the weapons left his hand, he turned and fled in panic. His feet seemed to not even touch the rubble strewn floor as he ran. He could feel the air becoming cleaner, his breath became easier. He burst from the main opening at a full sprint.

Tyrion and Silas were more than half way back across the clearing on their way to look for him.

He flailed his arms as he ran.

"Go! Go! Go! Go!" He cried. Other exclamations - some more colorful, some unintelligible - also burst from him as he tore across the clearing.

As he neared the edge of the forest where the others were waiting, he began gesturing to them, waving them deeper into the woods.

Then the ground beneath them trembled and writhed like a thing alive. The entire ruin seemed to rise slightly from the ground, teetering like a child's toy before the entire mass began subsiding into the ground with a deafening roar.

The depression followed after them like a grotesque wave, clawing away from the center of the blast as brilliant violet flames escaped the subterranean constraints with powerful authority.

With a cry, Felix, Silas and Tyrion were hurled forward, landing in a heap well inside the edge of the foliage.

The ruins of Dol-Guldor rolled and folded themselves into the massive crater opening up beneath them choking many of the flames in clouds of ancient dust. Smaller bits of debris rained down from above, hurled by the concussive force of the expanding gasses trapped below.

"You crazy son of a bitch!" Silas roared when he finally found his voice again. "I like explosions and that scared the shit out of me!"

Felix was laughing uncontrollably as the anxiety found an avenue of expression.

He rolled over on his back and let out an impulsive cry.

"What a rush!" He shouted.

"You crazy!" Silas's voice was almost shrill, which only made the others begin to laugh more. "That's the last time I ever run after you to save your ass again! Ever! You got me?"

Nicolla looked back to the edge of the woods and saw the sunken piles of rubble that had once been Dol-Guldor.

A sudden mental flash of fierce joy momentarily overcame her. She turned and looked back towards Legolas. He stood near the other one, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders as her eyes blazed with sudden awareness.

Celebrian's personal hell had been buried forever and she was glad of it. It was the first emotion Nicolla had perceived from her since she had been discovered.

Pale blue eyes met hers questioningly and Nicolla nodded in understanding. There was something almost ominous in the elf woman's gaze. She turned and looked back at the ruins, watching the dust settle as the last of the flames died away.

"Sure hope the big guy wasn't still in there," Felix commented.

Mavon stiffened in shock suddenly.

"Yo!" He shouted. "Agran! You out there?"

The only sound was the wind whispering among the branches and the occasional soft rumble of settling stone.

"Don't you fuck with me to overgrown pain in the ass!" Mavon continued. "Step up!"

Felix half smiled at that.

"Wow, that almost sounds like genuine concern?" He offered.

There was the rustle of something moving in the boughs above and then the thud of a heavy impact reverberated through the ground near them and right next to Mavon.

In a crackle of blue energy, the Kajano rose to his feet, materializing like a specter.

Mavon gave the massive alien a stern look. "You gonna hang with us, you better be more visible, man!"

"Nicky," Silas said softly.

"You were worried about him?" Tyrion asked with a chuckle.

"Well, I did have to pull him clear of the fight before," Felix offered with a grin.

Agran's armored face plate snapped around in his direction and he growled menacingly.

"Nicky?" Silas said again.

Slowly all eyes turned and focused on the petite telepath. Her eyes were wide and filled with pain. Her breath came in quick shallow gasps, andher gaze was focused inward.

Gabrielle noticed that Celebrian was also staring intently right at Nicolla..

"Legolas?" she said gently. She nodded to Celebrian.

Legolas looked down at Celebrian and back up at Gabrielle.

The terror was growing by the moment.

"Look at me," Gabrielle said softly to the girl.

Celebrian's eyes didn't waver.

The young bard stepped into her line of view and held her hands up in a calming gesture.

"She won't hurt you," she said softly and gently. "She's your friend. We all are. We're here to help."

Celebrian's eyes focused on Gabrielle and the intense fury washed over her in a cold wave. The young bard blinked and instinctively forced the assaulting sensations back.

She looked over at Nicolla and saw that she had not moved. It was as if she were rooted in place.

Tyrion had also seen this and moved to stand before her.

"Nicky?" he asked. "Nicky, snap out of it."

"Celebrian," Gabrielle continued deliberately, ignoring the piercing blue steel of the elf's gaze. "You need to let her go."

"Have a care," Gimli cautioned.

Xena's hand reflexively drifted to her sword hilt.

Celebrian's face was set, her eyes blazing as Gabrielle approached. It was as if she were seeing something other than the young compassionate bard.

A thin trickle of blood emerged from Nicolla's right nostril and she began to shiver slightly.

"Oh shit," Felix said in horror. He reached for his medical bag and moved to stand over next to Tyrion.

"You really need to let her go," Gabrielle continued with just a hint of severity. She looked back at Nicolla quickly and then fixed her eyes on the elf. "You're hurting her."

Nicolla's convulsions began to grow quickly under the mental pressure of the elf woman.

"Nicky?" Tyrion said in concern. "Nicky!"

More blood emerged from her nose and a small stream began to flow from her ears.

Silas turned and aimed his rifle at the elf. "Turn her loose, now!"

"What the hell are you doing?" Mavon blurted.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked at the same time.

Gabrielle stepped up, taking advantage of the multiple diversions, and slammed her fist into the jaw of the elf woman, sending her into unconsciousness.

Nicolla shuddered and collapsed as the mental hold was broken. She gurgled something unintelligible and toppled forward into Tyrion's arms.

"Lady!" Legolas cried in protest as Celebrian fell to the ground.

At the same moment, Gabrielle felt the weight she had been fighting vanish from her own heart and mind. Only dimly did she realize that she too had been dangerously close to falling under the spell of the silent elf woman.

"What was the meaning?" Legolas said angrily as he knelt next to Celebrian. His eyes fell on Tyrion and Felix working desperately on Nicolla. He looked back up at Gabrielle in astonishment and then slowly gestured to his face, above the upper lip.

Gabrielle reached up and felt something wet beneath her own nose. When she pulled her hand away it was red with blood.

"She could have killed us," Gabrielle said softly.

Nicolla was staring up at the sky, her body shaking uncontrollably.

"Stay with me," Felix said as he worked furiously to stem the convulsions. She blinked and fixed her eyes on Tyrion. Her gaze was desperate, frightened, filled with the unknown and the inevitable.

"Tyrion," she managed to gurgle.

"I'm here." He answered. "Don't get any ideas about going anywhere, hear me?"

Her gaze went hard as if she were fighting to remain as she was.

"They worked, right?" she asked, her hand clasping his with deadly strength. She released her grip and clutched at the pocket in his vest holding the enigmatic red jewel.

"Don't even think about it!" Felix said sharply.

"S-s-s-second chance…" Nicolla gasped and then she went limp. Her eyes rolled back and her body shook once and went still.

Agran's wrist blades suddenly extended with a metallic clang and he stepped towards the unconscious elf girl.

Legolas was on his feet in an instant, his bow notched and drawn, the arrow aimed at the big alien's chest.

The plasma cannon on his shoulder swiveled and three red dots appeared on the elf's chest.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Silas shouted, interposing his massive frame between the two of them. He held his hands up in a staying gesture.

"He shall not touch her," Legolas said fiercely. He stepped over and stood over the unconscious form of Celebrian.

Agran growled fiercely.

"Okay! No one is killing anyone else today, got it?" He said quickly. His eyes fell on Felix. "She ain't dead, right? She's in one of those tank things, or will be soon, right?"

Xena was before Gabrielle looking the young bard over. Gabrielle's gaze was a little unfocused as the adrenalin subsided, but otherwise she was okay.

Slowly, Felix rose and stepped away from Tyrion. He knelt there, his hand holding Nicolla's as he stared down at her.

Silas jabbed Felix in the shoulder. "Right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Felix replied absently.

There was confusion in Tyrion's expression, loss, desire, all mixed with something else, but no tears were forthcoming.

Slowly his gaze rose to the motionless form at Legolas's feet and his gaze became dark and deadly.

"Hey! Hey!" Silas pointed at him. "Chief! I mean it!"

Tyrion seemed to be entertaining the idea of seeing if the elf was as fast with his bow as he boasted. His fingers twitched towards his pistol.

"Doc, Mave," Silas ordered. "You go with Legs and get her out of here, right now!"

For the first time, the rage was heard in Silas's voice as well. "Get her gone before one of us finishes her for good!"

Felix looked over at Gabrielle. She nodded and waved him away.

"The nano's in her system should be able to handle any damage," he thought, comforting himself.

He and Mavon stepped over in front of Legolas, watching Agran and Tyrion closely.

"Legolas," Mavon offered. "I suggest you pick her up and get out of here while we still can."

Legolas looked at the two and frowned slightly.

"We got our orders," Felix added. "We need to move right now."

Slowly, Legolas loosened the draw on his bow and then lifted the unconscious girl from the ground.

"She is the last of the High Elves in Middle Earth," he said in a haunted voice. He looked down at Nicolla's lifeless body and seemed about to say more, but the gaze he received from Tyrion stopped him.

"I am sorry," he finally stammered, and he turned and moved off through the trees.

"Doc, Mave," Silas grumbled.

The two men nodded.

"Catch you later," Felix offered.

Silas nodded.

Felix and Mavon shouldered their weapons and moved off after Legolas.

Gabrielle broke away from Xena's careful ministrations and dropped to the ground next to the body.

Nicolla's eyes were wide, staring blankly back at her.

Carefully, Gabrielle reached into the upper vest pocket and drew out the stone she carried. Its facets were blackened and dark, the memory expended.

"She's in the same situation as Felix," she said suddenly. "That was why he had us carry the ones that were meant for us. She's being, being," she fumbled for the correct term and then gave up. "All we need to do I figure out where she'll be and go get her, right?"

Four sets of eyes fell on her.

"I mean there can't be that many places to do that, right?" she went on quickly.

"Gabrielle," Xena said gently.

"All we need to do is track down which one and go there," Gabrielle rambled, her eyes welling up. "Then we just break in and pull her out, right?

She snapped her fingers. "Those pad things! Felix was using them to figure out all those weird things when we were in that underground castle? We can use them to find Nicky too! Just make it so they can find her bio, whatever,"

"Gabs," Tyrion said.

"You should be able to use those to find her otherwise what good are you?" She finally cried angrily as Xena rushed forward and held her as the grief came over her again.

Xena led Gabrielle away as Silas, Tyrion and even Agran exchanged looks.

"She's right, you know," Silas offered. "Right now, Nicky's being loaded into some computer thing as we sit here. She ain't dead."

"I know," Tyrion took a deep breath. "I know."

"Then all we gotta do is try and find her," Silas finished.

Tyrion looked up at him and his gaze was filled with dark determination.

"We aren't going to try." He said ominously. "We'll find her if we have to burn half of this planet away to do it."

40


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

…_inputs seven seven nine two six four eight at twenty five and three tenths percent divergent six four seven nine four…biometric variances at ten point two four four nine by six polarized to five nine eight variable three at forty…planetary rotation maintain at twenty two thousand two forty seven point six nine six at five…mean daily rotation at twenty six point four units per rotation…mean cycle at three hundred ninety four point one four rotations per at a variant increase of point zero zero zero zero zero zero two one and increasing….average tectonic shift ratio at four to one…movement point zero zero zero three per rotation…_

Nicolla regained consciousness, though she knew she couldn't call it waking up. Her universe was nothing more than a reddish haze within which she drifted. She looked around her and found nothing and no one.

"Hello?" she called, only to hear her voice blend into the din around her.

…_life form designated four nine seven seven eight four nine variant six one six, modify genetic structure mutation factor zero zero point four nine two seven, two, zone seventeen, variant two nine two four seven reactive and functioning within genetic parameters, mutation showing minimal template degradation at point zero zero zero four nine four one percent of original, viability positive, organism viable for transplantation…_

Nicolla felt rather than heard the data coursing around her like a maddening din of voices. At the same time, she could feel her own mind being dragged down into that ocean of data.

"Stop," she thought consciously. She forced herself to recall the most basic information like her name, her age, planet of birth, anything that helped her maintain her sense of self.

Her perception was nothing more than the swirling nebula of data flowing around, over and through her.

"This isn't going to work," She admitted even as she utilized every technique her mental training had given her.

… _open source regulation system maintaining viability at ninety-seven point two three percent of normal, region seven nine two rejuvenated to seventy-two point six percent of initial viability…_

She needed to sequester her mind from this deluge of information. She had to find some way of insulating herself.

"Insulate," she thought. Then she understood. She needed an insulated space within this place. She needed to lock her mind in a safe location.

Slowly, deliberately, she began to build a single room, rising, brick by mental brick into a simple four walled structure. As each portion of the walls assimilated itself in her mind, she felt the cacophony fall in volume until finally there was nothing but blessed silence.

She opened here eyes – truly opened her eyes and found herself in a small, ten foot square gray brick booth, like a cell in some underground bunker. She wore her standard battle gear, her weapons slung at her side and hip. Everything was clean and spotless.

"Residual self image," she acknowledged. "Typical."

Okay, she was inside the living computer system that was in charge of maintaining the planet that she and her friends were trapped on. It was a massive data network that watched over every single life form from the most complex creature to the simplest single cell organism.

"An entire planet, recorded in a computer," she mused. The very concept was incredible. Her admiration aside, however, she needed what the system had. She needed information and a means to disseminate it. Her eyes drifted across the faceless brick walls of her self imposed prison.

"You need an interface," A voice said beside her.

She jumped and turned to find Felix standing beside her.

"What the hell?"

Felix smiled and sank to the floor, his back leaning against the wall.

"Hi Nicky," he nodded.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Nicolla demanded, more startled than angered.

"Me?" Felix grinned. "Well, I'm not. Not here, in point of fact. I'm out there, re-assimilated into the real world, thanks to you."

"Not like you gave me a choice," Nicolla countered.

"Careful," Felix replied evenly. "Don't get distracted. You got a lot on your plate, even if you can compartmentalize your mind like this."

Even as he said the words, Nicolla felt the little twinge as the walls of her cell weakened slightly.

A few moments of concentration and they were once again solid.

"Okay," Felix nodded. "You don't have a lot of time before they discover your little isolation ward. You need to move fast."

"Right," Nicolla agreed. "So, figment of my imagination?"

Felix shrugged. "More like psychic buffer. You're stuck in a system that will overwhelm you with sheer volume, but you also know that being alone can drive you wonko too, so, here I sit, at your service."

"Keeping me from going mad, huh?" Nicolla smiled tightly as she manipulated the information that made up her self imposed isolation.

"Pretty much," Felix agreed.

"I would have preferred Tyrion," she said, looking sidelong at him.

"You would have been boffing his brains out instead of doing anything constructive," Felix retorted. "And you know it."

Nicolla sighed. "Yeah, you're right."

"You need an interface," Felix continued, pulling the discussion back on track. "Something that will allow you to see the data without being overwhelmed by it."

"I need a D-terminal," Nicolla nodded. She closed her eyes and concentrated. There was a soft hiss around her and when she reopened her eyes, she smiled.

Dominating one wall was a computer interface with a large holo-monitor. The matrixed data streamed down across the imager in an endless scroll of information.

She stepped up to the terminal and began manipulating the controls.

"First thing's first," she said aloud. "I need to let the others know that I'm alright. There has to be a way to communicate with them from here?"

"Tricky," Felix shook his head. "You probably can, but it might give away that you aren't part of the machine. Independent thought is pretty much non existent here. You start acting out of character here and the system might purge you."

"Pretty much?" Nicolla asked.

"Well, a system this huge can't function completely logically, hence the need for organic minds in the computing matrix. The decision making skills of the irrational sentient mind are just as good as the arithmetic." He smiled. "Sometimes better."

"Felix managed to contact Gabby when he was in here," Nicolla reasoned. "Just before we found him in that stasis pod."

"True, but the pod and the entire facility began to shut down the second the breach was discovered." Felix replied. "I probably waited as long as I could before making that leap, and even then, I couldn't retain any of the really important intel, like where we are and how we can get out of here."

Nicolla paused. "Felix wasn't constituted in that stasis pod immediately after death! He was reconstituted right before we got there! He chose where to reconstruct his physical body, close to where we would find him!"

Felix pursed his lips. "It's an interesting theory, but how do we prove it? And if he managed to do that, how did he execute the control without being deleted from the system before it happened?"

Nicolla began moving through the layers of data, her eyes scanning the myriad of bits for a clue.

"He found a back door," she murmured.

"Or created one," Felix nodded.

"But how?" Nicolla asked. "It's taking everything I got just to keep the demons out, so to speak. How did he manage it without being able to isolate himself?"

"He's a whiz kid," Felix shrugged. "While you have telepathic force, he has computational finesse. He probably doubled himself and let the system absorb that while he snooped around and did some creative programming."

"Which means he would have left that out for anyone else that might get caught up in this," Nicolla concluded.

"Which means you should be able to get out of here," Felix nodded.

"Oh, not just out of here," Nicolla smiled tightly. "If this system is as powerful as I think it is, we might be able to get out of this galaxy and reconstitute me somewhere else entirely. We would just need to find the right place to set it up."

"You mean, on another planet or a drift somewhere?" Felix nodded. "Think you can do it?"

"Maybe," Nicolla replied. "I need to see if I can find some of the operating routines and jimmy them a little to do what we want."

"And then we just run the routine when we're ready and wake up wherever we want to," Felix grinned. "Brilliant."

Nicolla nodded. "It's interesting how when I imagine you, we get along."

Felix shrugged. "This is your delusion, not mine."

"Okay," Nicolla mused. She smiled when a string of information scrolled past her. "Got it. Re-assimilation sub routine in the middle of the genetic randomizing system. Next order of business: Where the hell are we?"

"Um, you may want to address the genetic randomizing aspect of that," Felix said nervously. "I don't think you want to come back with six arms and purple hair."

"I know, I know," Nicolla agreed. "But I'll fiddle with that last. Its part of a primary system and it's active. If I hit it now, it might set off something."

"Good point."

She manipulated the information again, unconsciously aware that all of her actions were actually taking place in her mind even as she felt the tactile sensations of the universe she had folded around herself. She knew that she was on borrowed time. Even with the insulation she had around her mind, it was only a matter of time before the system around her detected the error and acted upon it. The results could be various, but the most likely scenario was a complete data wipe of the affected area resulting in her permanent demise.

She needed several things and she needed them quickly.

Her mind worked furiously as she sought the data she required.

…_Anomalous access detected….anomalous access detected….protected data access…purge non networked entity from system and commence reactivation of affected systems….priority one dash four….execute…_

"Ah shit," Felix looked up at the screen. "They found us."

"Time for you to go Felix," she gritted her teeth. The figure of the young man wavered and vanished. Her mind worked furiously.

"Come on," she whispered to herself. "Where are you?"

Her fingers and mind flew across the data, no longer concerned about who might be watching or what might happen. The universe around her began to flex and pucker, like a bubble expanding as it rises to the surface of a body of water. The pressure built around her a she fought to maintain it.

…_archive files accessed…download in progress…all files unauthorized for access…alert…alert…system compromised…illicit action executed…breach of protocol seven nine seven four two…commence emergency disbursement of noncompatable data…constitution system breach…illegal command sting accessed…protocol overwrite in progress…data breach…data breach…data breach…initiate final phase protocol seven seven seven nine…_

She took what she wanted and ripped it free, no longer caring about the consequences. That information went into a corner of her mind and she began building her own little wall there, hiding it behind a myriad of other thoughts and emotions.

At the very last moment, she closed that portion of her mind and locked it, just as the wave of energy began coursing through her.

The world exploded around her in an intense flash of blinding white light that faded to red. She felt the world around her like a sudden drop in pressure. Her ears popped.

The Poulas Whisper was a small tap cantina on Rinos Drift, somewhere close to the center of the void between two massive conglomerate systems. It served as a maintenance depot now, but in the past it had been the heart and soul of interstellar trade and commerce. Like all things, the decline of traffic over the last few years had meant a declination of the facility itself.

Dade Billans absently wiped down the bar as he looked at the two customers sitting on opposite ends, both hovering protectively over their mugs. Some old music droned quietly from old speakers in the ceiling.

Behind him, interspersed on the shelves between and behind numerous bottles of alcohol, hung images and trophies of his past life in the Confederated Military.

His eyes fell on an old, faded image taken on some obscure planet. A group of people stood or knelt before the side of a massive armored transport.

Dade stared at the image and smiled as he reminisced. What had brought on this particular sense of nostalgia, he had no idea.

His reflection was interrupted by a loud crash and hiss from the refrigeration unit behind the bar. A cloud of white gasses hissed out from behind the divider.

"Looks like you got another busted intake, Dade," one of the two customers grinned. "Better bring out the good stuff so we can drink it before it goes to waste."

At the same moment, something screamed into his consciousness. He felt the pressure of another mind explode into awareness so suddenly that he instinctively covered his ears.

Quickly as he could, he invoked his mental barrier and silenced the sudden screaming in his mind.

"What the hell was that?" he muttered.

"I said," the customer repeated. "It's a busted refer intake."

Dade stepped towards the open end of the bar and froze when the hatch opened and a flood of refrigerant gasses rushed out in a thick billowing cloud.

The two drunken patrons ducked a little lower behind the bar.

As Dade watched the gasses clear, he saw a figure stepping from the mist. She was short, about five feet or so, soaking wet and shivering. She was nude, with her arms wrapped about her as she shivered. Her green eyes were wide in shock or fear, and her long red hair hung matted against her pale skin.

Dade felt eyes widen in amazement.

"Nicky?" he managed to stammer.

She looked at him with wide, clear eyes. "Green steel wilts in summer hats," she said quietly.

Dade frowned.

"Nicky?" He rushed forward as she began to topple towards the ground.

One of his patrons stood up to get a better view of the semi-conscious naked woman. He smiled broadly.

"What else you hiding in that refer, Dade?"

He fixed the offending patron with an angry glare. "Tap's closed. Both of you get the fuck out, now!"

"But?" the second one said innocently.

"Now!" Dade blurted. "Or I'll give you two nightmares for a lunar!"

Both of them set their mugs down and backed towards the entrance, their hands out in supplication.

"Green steel wilts in summer hats," Nicolla repeated quietly.

Dade scooped up the girl and carried her quickly to his private room off the back of the cantina. Once she was settled, with a warm blanket covering her, he jogged out and sealed the entrance to the place.

"Green steel wilts in summer hats," Nicolla repeated again and again as if it were the only thought.

"Word salad?" Dade frowned. He made a mental note of the phrase and looked down at the young woman. "What the hell?"

She was in relatively good shape, considering. She was thin, thinner than he remembered her, and her color was a little paler than it should be. His frown deepened when he noticed the absence of a small scar at the back left side of her neck, a shrapnel graze from years ago.

Setting his manners aside for the moment, he lifted the coverings and quickly inspected her body for injury or evidence of old injuries.

There were none, absolutely none to be found. She was a flawless and beautiful as he remembered.

He let the blanket settle back down over her and studied her face again. She was unconscious or perhaps, asleep.

Quietly, he removed himself from the room and went back out to the bar.

He poured a short glass full of amber liquid and took a swallow, looking at the reflection gazing back at him in the darkened glass.

He was thin, with graying hair, cut short and a salt and pepper beard framing his face. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled slightly as were the crease lines on his forehead, giving him a concentrated expression even when he was relaxed.

He looked older than his thirty five years, which was typical for tellers of his ability.

The service tended to age tellers prematurely just by the sheer stress of most of the assignments they were given.

Dade Billans had been an interrogator. He had delved into more minds than he cared to remember, some of them more deviated than others. Some more well defended than others. All of them had broken eventually, even those of the tellers that had worked for the opposition. In fifteen years he had never faltered, never broken himself, never needed to take leave or required mental treatment. He had been the rock, the standard by which all telepathic interrogators were measured and when most of those who had struggled to emulate his abilities had gone mad or taken their own lives under the strain, he remained.

Now he was a retired interrogator, working at a forgotten station on the edge of the known, safely hidden in the anonymity of his new chosen profession.

His employers gave him the bar, and kept it stocked, after a fashion, as payment for his occasional services.

Dade reached over to the coms board and hit a switch.

"What's up Digger?" a voice asked gruffly.

"Your piece of crap repair on my cooling unit popped," Dade replied. "I need it fixed right this time."

"I'll see what I can do," the voice replied non-commitally.

"Don't see," Dade replied shortly. "Just do it!" He flicked the switch angrily and turned around to find Nicolla standing in the doorway, holding one of the covers over her body,

Her large green eyes stared at him inquisitively.

"Hey there Nicky," Dade smiled. "Feeling better?"

Nicolla frowned. Her lips moved as if she were trying to remember how to speak.

"Who?" she asked quietly.

"Am I?" Dade finished for her. She shook her head and then looked down at her feet.

"Are you?" Dade tried again.

She looked back up and slowly nodded her head.

Dade cocked his head to the side slightly. "You're telling me you don't know who you are?"

Again, she nodded.

"What do you know?" he asked.

"Green steel wilts in summer hats," Nicolla replied dutifully.

Dade's expression froze for a moment.

"You know that?" he asked.

Again, she nodded.

"That's it?"

Nicolla nodded her head again.

"That's intriguing," Dade mused. "Do you know who I am?"

Nicolla frowned for a moment as if she might recognize him, but her head slowly began to shake from side to side.

"Uh huh," Dade refilled his glass and sat down at a table. His feet came down on the table top with a thud and he gestured to the seat across from him.

Obediently, she sat down in the offered chair and looked at him with big curious eyes too innocent to be the woman he remembered.

"Green steel wilts in summer hats," Dade mused. He watched her intently for a reaction. There was none. If it was a trigger it would have activated something when he conveyed it to her.

Instead, Nicolla sat there, motionless and inquisitive, staring at him expectantly.

"If it's a key phrase, it should have done something," Dade considered. He looked at her again thoughtfully. "Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head.

"And you don't know who you are?" Dade went on.

She nodded.

"Where did you come from?" Dade pressed. "Where were you before you were here?"

At that question, she hesitated as if some thought or other distracted her from answering the question out of hand.

She frowned as if trying to formulate a response but in the end she shook her head again.

"But you know there was something?" Dade went on.

She nodded her head.

Dade rose and went to his data terminal, keying in parameters.

"Do you know Tyrion Darquefyre?" he asked.

She shook her head.

Dade read the reports on the disappearance of Tyrion's ship. Perhaps the key to unlocking the young woman's mind was in the circumstances of their disappearance.

"Silas Moore?" he went on. "Frank Mavonski, Mavon, Felix Malone, Doc, The Phoenix Fire, Mount Estones?"

To each of these, Nicolla shook her head.

Dade studied her face as she considered each name.

"But you know these are all relevant?" He asked.

She nodded slowly.

Dade scratched his head. It had been a long time since he had been forced to deal with this kind of mystery.

On a more positive note, when someone usually did something like this, they would hide it beneath layers of falsely impressed personality traits and backgrounds, or even a completely fabricated personality matrix. Digging past that was usually the most difficult part because the implanted persona invariably believed it was the actual personality, not an implant.

Nicolla had done the fist half of hiding pertinent information, but she had not bothered to subsume it within a false persona. That meant one of two things. She had done this to herself or whoever had done it hadn't had time to finish it properly.

If the latter was the case it was an example of piss poor shoddy work, or laziness on the part of the teller responsible. If the former, it was the last act of desperation a teller would fall back upon. Hiding themselves within a vault in their own mind was an act of ultimate desperation because the odds of someone else knowing the exact key to unlock that mind were slim.

The fact that Nicolla had showed up here, in his bar, showed that perhaps he might have that key, or know a way to divine it.

He had a myriad of questions about how she had wound up here, what had been used to do it, why all her old battle scars and distinguishing marks were gone, but that information, he knew, was locked in the mind of the person before him.

In order to get those answers, he needed to get to Nicolla.

Dade and Nicolla had a past going all the way back to the Military Academy. They had even been involved romantically for a short time before their respective assignments had parted them.

Every couple of cycles or so, one or the other would pop up and they would reunite and reminisce about the old days. Occasionally they wound up in bed together, but not all the time, and not the most recent times.

Dade began rattling off anything that came to mind as a possible key to unlock her mind. It was like brainstorming his entire life looking for that one combination of words that would give him what he needed.

Finally, after what seemed like a small eternity, he stopped and rubbed his eyes. He was the interrogator and it felt like he had been the one being grilled.

"You had to pick me specifically," he said to her as he rose and went to refill his glass again. "You didn't just pop up into this place out of the blue, you had a reason."

He took another drink and topped off the glass again. "I know something specific that will help open up what you locked away," he sighed. "I just can't figure it out."

He leaned against the bar and looked at her. "Why me? What is it that made you come to me and not anyone else?"

He drank again and studied her innocent expression. It sent a chill up his spine because he knew the woman locked within that innocent gaze was anything but innocent.

"What is it that I can give you that no one else," he stopped in mid thought as the realization came to him.

His smile grew and he waggled his finger at her. "Nicky, you are the best!"

She looked at him, frowning in curiosity.

He came around the bar and sat down directly in front of her.

"Okay," he held his hands out. "Take my hands."

She complied and there was an instant connection between the two of them. It was almost electric the way it connected their two minds.

"Okay Nicky," he thought to her. "Here we go."

He mentally tightened his grip, just in case something went wrong. Then he focused his mind on that impregnable mental wall in her psyche and concentrated.

"Green steel wilts in summer hats," he thought in a mental cry that echoed in the void between them.

Instantly, he had a mental image of bricks falling away and vanishing into the ether. The universe of Nicolla's mind began filling again and it was beautiful to behold.

He opened his eyes and stared at her and saw her, complete and whole, staring back at him darkly.

"Jeez Dade," she said with just the hint of a smile. "Took you long enough."

In that simple exclamation, her innocent features morphed into the sarcastic, hot tempered woman that he knew and at one time loved. He raised an eyebrow at her comment, only to see that wonderfully sardonic smile spread across her lips.

"You're welcome," Dade sat back, relieved. "Now what the hell is going on?"

"I'll tell you everything," Nicolla replied. "But I need a couple things first."

Dade raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"First," Nicolla indicated the tumbler in his hand. "I need a big one of those and second. Do you have any spare clothing?"

She looked down at the cover that was wrapped about her body, then back up at him and she smiled.

The laughter rose from them slowly and with it, the tension released.

A short time later, Nicolla sat at the table in a standard, albeit worn pair of fatigues and a shirt. The clothing was several sizes too large for her, but it served once she found a belt.

Then she had tossed down three tumblers of whiskey and was caressing her fourth as she sat across from Dade, awaiting his reaction.

To his credit, he absorbed the tale and its unlikely aspects quite well.

"Have you lost your fucking mind?" he asked her pointedly. "You wound up that far away that fast and got tangled up in some wild Geiasian conspiracy?"

"That's about it," Nicolla nodded.

"And you wound up matrixed in a living computer system on a throwback planet and managed to rewrite it to pop you back here instead of vaping you into nothing when it found out what you were doing?" he went on.

"Dade," Nicolla rose and finished her drink, stepping over to grab the bottle. "You and I both know how tellers hide information when we don't want it snatched from us. The only thing that I had to count on was that they wouldn't think to check, that they wouldn't catch my rewrite of the op sys, and that they wouldn't retaliate directly here when they did find the glitch!" She smiled. "And you eventually figuring the shit out."

"Oh, thanks so much," Dade retorted. "And you can back all this shit up, right?"

"Sure," Nicolla shot back. "I managed to bring an intel file with me when I busted out!"

She took a drink and closed her eyes.

"I can prove everything that I say is true, but I'm going to need your help."

"What kind of help?" Dade asked.

Nicolla fixed him with a hard stare.

"I need a ship, weapons, ordinance, and if you have one or two people you can trust handy, I could use them too."

"And just how in the hell are you going to pay for it?" Dade countered. "This isn't a charity establishment. You're going to need something to offer them in return."

"I have something to offer," Nicolla replied evenly. "You just need to have the balls to hear it out."

"Oh yeah, you're back," Dade sighed. "More's the pity."

"Dade, please!" Nicolla all but pleaded. She looked into his eyes. "I need your help!"

Dade held her gaze for a moment, read the thoughts and emotions behind them and was startled to find the level of emotional vulnerability there.

"Does Tyr know how you feel about him?" He asked.

Nicolla shook her head. "I've never told him, but that's not the point."

Dade took the bottle from her and refilled his glass again. "He's a fucking idiot, you know that?"

Nicolla sighed.

"Okay, if we're going to do this, we need to go through the boss." Dade continued.

"Who's the boss?"

"Marcolus Gaw," Dade explained. "He's an old school boss. When this place came up on the chopping block, it was him that kept it in one piece while making it look like Con Fed had scuttled it. Since then, he's controlled everything coming through here, and he's done a damn good job eliminating any competition."

"What's he moving?" Nicolla asked. "If I'm going to bargain this out, I need to know what his needs are."

"He's into everything." Dade explained. "Guns, med supplies, black market goods, illegal salvage, narco, biotech, geno, you name it."

"Slaving?" Nicolla asked.

Dade nodded. "Yeah. I wasn't going to mention it because I know how you feel about it, but yeah."

Nicolla nodded. "Would he have what I need on hand?"

Dade nodded. "Whatever you need, chances are he'll have it."

He began to smile as Nicolla once again tugged up on the waistband of the pants she wore.

"Including a uniform that will actually fit you." Dade finished with a smile.

Nicolla went over to his desk and began making notes on a data pad.

"Set up the meeting," she said. "As soon as possible. And don't tell him I'm one of us. The less he knows about me the better I can play this."

"By 'one of us', you mean," Dade pointed to the side of his head.

Nicolla nodded. She began writing quickly and neatly across the surface.

There was a loud pounding on the door.

"What!" Dade shouted.

"You want the cooling unit fixed or not?" A voice answered back impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah!" Dade called. "One second!"

He looked at Nicolla in concern.

The expression was mirrored on the woman's face. If they discovered she was here already, they might bring them in instead of the two of them dictating terms. Nicolla needed to be in a position to dictate terms for this to work.

Dade shrugged.

"Give me your shirt," Nicolla ordered, indicating his button down uniform shirt. "Quick!" She unfastened the oversized pants and let them fall to the floor. Then she kicked them. They fluttered up and over the bar, landing in a heap near the entrance to Dade's private room. Then she pulled the tee shirt off and tossed it in the same general direction.

Dade unbuttoned his own shirt and tossed it to her as he kicked his boots and socks off.

"You are nuts girl!" He whispered as he took in the image of her naked body appreciatively. "Absolutely freaking crazy, you know that?"

Nicolla pulled the shirt on and buttoned it down enough to cover herself.

Dade went to the door as Nicolla slid the data pad under the bar before seating herself casually atone of the tables, her tumbler back in her hand. She mussed her hair up quickly before Dade opened the access hatch.

The tech was a heavy man, large and round, with dark nervous eyes that seemed to dart around the room. He had a standard, albeit older, tech kit slung over one meaty shoulder, and his coveralls had the air of not being laundered for quite some time.

It only took a moment for Nicolla to penetrate his mind. He was technically competent in that respect, but he was also ambitious and looking for any reason to further his own ends.

He paused in his scan of the room when he saw her seated at a table, dressed in a shirt and looking slightly disheveled.

"_He's scoping us out,"_ Nicolla sent to Dade.

"_Yup,"_ Dade replied noiselessly. _"Making sure I don't have anything going on down here that I shouldn't."_

Out loud he said. "Cooling unit is in the back, remember?"

The tech blinked. "Yeah, yeah," he strode across the room to the access hatch and disappeared after one last desirous look in Nicolla's direction.

"_Vermite,"_ she thought in disgust.

"What in the seven moons happened back here?" Came a startled cry.

Dade looked at Nicolla who merely shrugged. The two of them moved after the tech and stopped short behind him when they entered the back store room.

The area was in a shambles. Hoses and electrical feeds hung like dead tendrils from the ceiling or lay snaking along the floor. The deck was covered in a thin layer of clear viscous liquid. A large cylindrical machine rested off to one side, its forward hatch and part of its outer shell split outward like it had burst from within.

"How the hell did that happen?" The tech asked, looking back at Dade.

Dade looked hard into the techs eyes, boring past them into his mind.

"I have no idea," he said in a soft commanding tone. "And neither do you. You'll just go and get a proper unit to repair the damage. If anyone asks, it was an old coolant regulator, nothing more."

"It was a coolant regulator," the tech replied stupidly. "Nothing more."

"Go now," Dade ordered.

The tech blinked and the light returned to his eyes. He took a deep breath, shrugged and offered a smile.

"Looks like that second hand coolant regulator I wired in finally blew and took the whole lot with it. I'll have to get a whole new unit for you. It might take a few days."

Dade nodded. "That's fine. I'll just serve hot drinks for a while."

The tech excused himself and exited the cantina.

Once the door hissed shut behind him, Nicolla turned to face Dade with a critical expression.

"What was that?" she demanded. "You know we're not allowed to do that!"

"Look at where we are, Nicky," Dade replied. "Con Fed isn't out here and we can't afford too many questions right now. Twisting his perception bought us some time. Make the most of it and let's get moving."

As the two of them moved from the confines of Dade's small pub, Nicolla stepped back through time. Rinos Drift was similar in design and function to her former home on Tantarus, it was a smaller station, consisting of only a single ring of prefabricated modules encircling a central dome containing the necessary live vegetation that functioned as food, oxygen supply, and waste recycling section.

The entire facility was in a constant state of disrepair having been abandoned by the Confederated Systems some years prior and later reclaimed by the privateer Marcolous Gaw.

From all accounts, Gaw was the quintessential business person, cold, ruthless and ambitious. He functioned on the simple principle that nothing in the universe should ever be free. Therefore, everything had a price and everything could be bought. His organization was the largest in the system and also the most organized. While ruthless, he was extremely honest in the final dealings. If the price was set for a shipment or commodity, then that was the price. Many opportunistic lesser smugglers liked to change deals at the last hour, attempting to glean more credits from a load. Those who tried that with Gaw usually wound up broke, dead, or worse.

His reputation was known and respected through the systems.

They stepped from the confining corridors of the module into the wide open illuminated space of the central hydroponics dome. Nicolla looked up and breathed in the terrestrial scent of the place as she studied the stars dotting the spaces between the clusters of UV emitters.

The foliage was paler than normal plant life, since it did not receive the real sunlight it needed. The soil was dark, earthy, and held an effluvium that was not altogether clean, but it was as close to an actual garden as one could get in the cosmos.

Hydrators sprayed water over the plants like mist and here and there, she even heard the chirp of an insect or two.

Dade and Nicolla strode down one of the main corridors between rows of food crops towards the central column which rose like a monolith to the pinnacle of the dome. AT the top were the control facility for incoming and outbound traffic, Gaws offices and private residence.

"Once we get up there, you do the introductions and then let me do the talking, okay?" Nicolla said.

"Sure thing," Dade replied. "But it'll cost you."

She looked at him questioningly.

"We'll discuss it later," Dade smiled.

Two large men flanked the doorway that led to the lift for the control tower. They were each knotted with powerful muscle and dressed in military style equipment, though the care of the garments was anything but military.

Each man held a heavy caliber rifle in their hands and had a large caliber side arm hanging at his hip.

One of them was completely bald while the second had dark hair, cut close to his scalp giving his head a squarish appearance.

"Hey Billans," The bald one said. "What the hell do you want?"

Dade shrugged. "I gotta see the boss."

"Boss ain't seeing anyone today," The other one replied. His eyes took in Nicolla and he smiled. "No matter what you're selling."

"Oh, I'm not selling anything today," Dade smiled disarmingly. Then his gaze went hard. "I'm not even here. You don't even see me."

Both guards went blank faced and froze. Nicolla could feel the energy emanating from Dade, encompassing both of the lackeys before her.

"We never came by you today," Dade said in a tight voice. "You don't hear us or see us, understood?"

Both men nodded dumbly.

"When the lift door closes, you will remember nothing of me or my companion." He smiled. "It's been another boring shift."

The lift door hissed open beyond the entrance.

Quickly, the two of them entered the lift and held their breath until the door closed.

Once the hatch clanged shut, both guards blinked suddenly and then looked at one another.

"Another boring shift," The bald one commented with a resigned sigh.

"Tell me about it," His companion replied, setting his weapon down and leaning casually against the wall.

Nicolla looked sidelong at Dade as the lift rose. "You're really racking them up today."

He smiled. "Some things never change."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Nicolla asked.

Dade shrugged and watched the monitor on the lift control panel. "Only that, whenever you show up, I end up in some form of trouble or other."

Nicolla crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow inquisitively. "Oh really?"

"Kinhardt Drift, eight years ago," Dade said simply.

"That's not fair!" Nicolla burst out. "How was I supposed to know he was an imbedded personality?"

Dade looked down at her and her expression became a little sheepish.

"It's not my fault that his programming activated before he reached his objective." She muttered.

"We were supposed to suppress and detain, remember?" Dade chided.

"We did!" Nicolla replied.

"You shot him Nicky," Dade folded his arms.

"Well, I," Nicolla stammered. "He had a gun and a detonator pack big enough to take out the entire section! What was I supposed to do?"

"Nine times?" Dade asked. "You shot him nine times, Nicky!"

"You could have brain locked him," Dade went on. "Instead you unload on the guy and shove the evidence out the airlock!"

"Intel said he had the data on his person," Nicolla countered. "It never said it was in his head! I'm not omniscient!"

Dade grumbled but fell silent. However his thoughts were loud and clear.

"I never knew it was your personal yacht!" Nicolla wheeled on him. "The vest was counting down so I got rid of it. It's not my fault the drifts rotation took the pack to your ship!"

The lift slowed to a stop and the door hissed open.

Unlike the rest of the drift, the operations center was spotless, updated and functional, staffed by cleanly dressed and professional individuals.

Two armed guards sporting full military equipment stood on either side of the entrance under vid cams that watched the small entry way.

The dividing wall was constructed of transplast, completely clear and yet, able to deflect all but the most powerful of hand held weapons.

As the lift door hissed open, the two men standing vigil at the entry way looked at each other quickly and then back at Dade and Nicolla.

It was immediately apparent that neither of them were expecting visitors of any kind that particular day. Their hands went immediately to the grips on their weapons though they did not raise them.

Nicolla immediately sensed the recognition of Dade from both men.

"Afternoon gentlemen," Dade greeted them. "Need to see the boss."

One of the men shook his head.

"Mister Gaw isn't seeing anyone today," He replied evenly.

"I know," Dade nodded. "But trust me. This is someone he is going to want to talk to."

The guards looked down at Nicolla, unimpressed. Yes she was young and she was attractive, but aside from the potential physical gratification one might receive from her amorous attentions, there was little in the way of her appearance to make her look like something worth violating their orders.

One of them offered a little smirk.

Nicolla sighed and looked the two men up and down, her arms crossing her chest as she considered. Then she turned and looked up at the vid cam in the corner.

"Marcolous Gaw!" She said in a demanding tone. "I didn't come all the way out here just to look at these two goons and get the cold shoulder!"

She looked over at Dade and saw the pale, horrified expression on his face.

"Look!" She went on. "I don't have time to waste on this. If you want to make some money then tell the two zombies up here to open the door, otherwise you can take the slow hike to fuck yourself and I'll find someone else to make rich, you hear?"

"Nicky!" Dade hissed. "Watch it!"

Nicolla tapped her foot impatiently for a few moments and then shrugged.

"Fine, your loss, numb nuts!" She looked over at Dade. "Come on, we're out of here."

She headed to the lift without a look back to see if Dade even followed her.

She stopped short when she heard the unmistakable sound of weapons being raised.

She turned back and saw the transparent hatch slide open.

Standing there, his arms clasped behind his back, was a man of middling age, with thick pale brown hair and keen dark eyes. He was at one time a powerfully built man, but neglect of his physique had led to the protrusion of his belly and a somewhat slack appearance.

His shirt was a gleaming white and his suit was impeccably pressed.

"Marcolous Gaw?" Nicolla asked with just a hint of impatience as she read his senses.

Gaw was not angered by her little outburst but neither was he impressed. He was contemplating her intently, reading her as best he could.

"What?" She asked when there was nothing but silence for a long moment.

Gaw's eyes moved to Dade and he nodded.

"Mister Billans," he said in a smooth, handsome accent that Nicolla could not quite place. "Who's your friend?"

"Heya Boss," Dade replied. "This is Nicolla Sheil, an old friend from a few years back."

Marcolous looked at Nicolla and then back at Dade. "Well, that might explain the hostility."

He turned and locked his gaze upon her. "Well?" he asked. "You have my attention, Miss Sheil."

Nicolla held her ground under his gaze.

"You think I'm going to have this discussion here, in the open, in front of these two morons?" she indicated the two guards on with either side of Marcolous. "I have sensitive stuff to talk to you about and the last thing I need is a couple of grunts yapping about it after they suck down a couple of shooters."

One narrow eyebrow rose and Nicolla sensed a tinge of amusement from the man in the doorway.

"Please come in," He gestured to the interior.

Dade looked over at Nicolla and shrugged.

The three of them passed through the barrier and into the main command room of Rinos Drift.

Unlike the rest of the station, the equipment in the heart of the station was unmistakably top of the line and the people moving back and forth between various terminals and monitors had a decidedly more professional air about them than their contemporaries below.

Nicolla scanned the room quickly with her eyes and her mind, absorbing as much as she could from the figures in the room, careful not to alert anyone who might also share her talents.

They entered a lavishly appointed office on the opposite side of the circular room.

It took up a large portion or the rear of the control hub, and was decorated with polished furnishings that spoke to an earlier era. The tables, chairs and other furnishings were all of highly polished and very expensive organic materials. Soft amber lamps illuminated shelves and other nooks.

Marcolous went over to a series of shelves that contained numerous bottles of colored liquids. He removed a large decanter of pale green liquid and poured some into a small glass.

"Drink?" he offered.

Dade and Nicolla both declined.

"Very well," he said pleasantly. "We are alone, so, perhaps you can explain to me why you violated protocol and messed with the minds of my guards below?" He fixed his intense stare on Dade.

Dade gulped and offered a shrug. "We needed to get to you as quickly as possible and we didn't have time to go through your normal channels."

"This chit chat is all very nice, but I don't have time for it," Nicolla interrupted, setting the pad down on the desk. "I need some things from you and I'm on a tight schedule, so here it is."

Gaw took the data pad and began scanning the information carefully.

Nicolla was surprised when his response was not the incredulity she had expected. His mind was calculating values as soon as he saw the requisitions.

His personal monitor pinged and he pressed another switch, looking at a second set of information. Then he keyed in some commands in the terminal and went back to Nicolla's data pad.

Nicolla felt him consider for a moment longer and then he nodded.

"Impressive array of equipment you have here," he said, setting down the data pad. His eyes fixed on her closely. "Our last information about you was from an evacuation on Tar Antilles, and yet here you are, seventy-five light years away, alone. How, pray tell, did you manage that?"

"I'm special," Nicolla replied shortly. She looked at the pad. "Can you do that?"

"Oh, I can do this," Marcolous replied evenly. "The question is: Why should I?"

He leaned back and indicated the pad. "You have everything listed there except what I get from the deal if I decide to front you."

At that, Nicolla smiled. He was curious and he knew that anything requiring the large amount of hardware she had requested was going to be something risky. Risk always translated into wealth.

"What's in this for me?" He asked evenly.

Nicolla smiled. "You have a stellar cartography terminal?"

Marcolous frowned. "Yes."

Nicolla rose. "Then I can show you."

The terminal on his desk pinged again and Marcolous looked over the information quickly, then he turned his eyes back to Nicolla, his eyes fixed on her, his expression neutral.

"I don't think so," he replied. His gaze drifted to his private monitor and he recited.

"Captain Nicolla Miranda Sheil, age thirty-two, Confederated Special Forces Reconnaissance until four and half cycles ago," he turned his gaze on her. "Quite a colorful record here regarding your activities." He looked back at the screen and a smile began pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Seems you were also assigned to Games and Theory before switching to covert operations," He looked up at Dade and nodded to Nicolla. "Games and Theory is a polite way of saying that you were part of Military Intelligence. That meant you handled interrogation, and in that capacity, you served as a Cerebral Extraction Specialist." He looked back up at her and this time there was ice in his gaze. "Strange, you didn't mention your telepathic abilities when we first met?"

His hand rose from behind the desk, holding a large caliber pistol. He did not aim it at them directly. Instead, he set it upon the smooth stone of his desk, finger gently curling over the trigger.

"Seeing this, I must ask myself," he went on, fixing his gaze on Dade. "Did you brain freeze the two morons below, or did our lovely little guest here?"

Nicolla shrugged. She didn't want her friend to get into more trouble than he was already in.

"I did," she lied.

He sat back in his chair and raised the pistol. "Another interesting conundrum," he continued. "In spite of all their varied talents, Tellers can't alter vid monitors or bio scanners – or so I have heard - and yet I have no record of you arriving on any ship that's come through here in the last two weeks. You don't show up on any security feeds from any ship or on any passenger list, anywhere, nevertheless, here you are."

"How did you manage that, Captain?" Gaw asked, and for the first time his voice had an air of menace that matched his gaze.

Instead of appearing afraid, Nicolla smiled and nodded.

"You were right Dade," she smiled. "He's sharp. He might just be able to pull it off."

Dade only shrugged. "I told you."

"Okay Marco," Nicolla said. She leaned back and put her feet up on the fine desk, ignoring the weapon pointed at her.

"Shortly after that mess on Tar Antilles, we wound up on another planet. The details on how we wound up there and why aren't important, but I can tell you that it's got enough tech scattered all over it to make you a wealthy man."

She wracked her brain, trying to recall everything Felix had said in their tent on that long ago day.

"It's a small planet at G-North three fifty-two by five sixty and it is _loaded_."

"What kind of tech?" Gaw asked.

"Geiasian," Nicolla smiled.

For the first time in the conversation, Nicolla registered a moment of stunned disbelief from Gaw. His expression went rigid.

"Now," Nicolla went on. "It is inhabited, which is why I need the equipment and manpower I'm asking for, but once we get a foothold on the surface, the indigenous population wouldn't have the means to do anything about it. You could harvest at will. The indies have been tech repressed for ages."

Gaw's stony expression melted into a suspicious smile, but Nicolla could sense his skepticism before he had formulated his response.

"You must think me a fool, Captain," He smiled. "The fastest way to the location you give is to cut through Kajano Territory. I seem to recall an issue with another drift near here a while back - Mintaka, if memory serves? And that place was vaped because they sent a small patrol vessel a mere two parsecs into Kaj territory."

"Yes, there is that," Nicolla's smile widened. "And that's the best part. You see, the rest of my people aided a Kajano party that also wound up marooned there, and we just happened to come to an understanding with the Supreme Patriarch. The only problem is that the mode of transit I had to use to go try and find help was only big enough for one person. So, here I am."

She leaned forward and met Gaw's gaze with a level one of her own. "You give me what I need and I can personally guarantee that I can broker a meeting between you and the leader of the Kajano race."

Nicolla sat back. "You could have the entire planet to mine for G-Tech, which is worth a fortune in the market, and broker agreements to mine resources on worlds in Kajano Space. Perhaps even have them help keep your station here secure, the possibilities are endless. All depends on how you deal with them."

"And you know how to deal with them," Marcolous said.

"One of my associates is better at it, but I can get by." Nicolla replied.

"And this associate is currently?" Marcolous asked.

"On the planet I'm offering to you," Nicolla smiled.

Gaw nodded. "I would prefer more positive proof of your credentials."

"I'm sure you would," Nicolla nodded. "Take a sample of the residue from the cooling unit behind the Poulas Whisper, and that'll be as much proof as I can give you. It's also the way I got aboard your station, Mister Gaw."

"Really?" Gaw's eyebrow rose thoughtfully. "How interesting."

Nicolla nodded. "So?"

Gaw sat back and looked at the two of them closely for a few moments, as if sizing them up and Nicolla could almost hear the numbers calculating in his mind.

"Very well," He said. "Aside from the fact that Silas Moore is one of my more consistent customers, I'll do this, provided you can get me that truce with the Kajano?"

"I can't guarantee a truce, no," Nicolla shook her head. "I can guarantee a meeting, but you'll have to close the deal. They don't work through intermediaries like we do."

Gaw's eyes narrowed just a little. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Master Billans will remain here however."

Nicolla's mouth opened to protest.

"You were going to ask him to be your second in command, were you not?" Marcolous smiled knowingly. "Getting the two of you off my station and away from here in case the end result is less than what you hoped for?"

Gaw smiled. "Master Billans is your guarantee of good conduct, Captain. Once you take off, you will have an adequate amount of time to complete your task and return here with the Kajano leader for our meeting. If you don't come back," he shrugged. Then he looked at Dade.

"Are you willing to trust her that much?"

Dade looked up at her and saw her eyes widen slightly as she shook her head, signaling that he should decline.

"Master Billans?" Marcolous asked.

Dade smiled and saw Nicolla pale. "Sure thing. I'm good with that."

"Excellent," Marcolous nodded, rising and extending his hand. "Then we have a deal."

"Oh, one more thing," Nicolla asked suddenly.

Marcolous raised an eyebrow.

"Do you have anything that would fit better than this?" Nicolla asked pointing to the dingy shirt she wore. "Preferably clean?"

Marcolous looked at her for a moment longer before his round face broke into a grin and he laughed out loud.

"I like you," he nodded. "You have a wonderful sense of style. I think we may be able to work together." He pressed a switch on his desk.

"Hoskins," he called. "Step in here for a moment please."

The door opened and a tall, lean man in dark combat fatigues strode into the room. He was tan and bald with angular features and penetrating pale gray eyes that were almost white.

The man saw Nicolla and only lost his stride for a moment.

"Sir?"

"Hoskins," Marcolous gestured to her. "This is Captain Sheil."

"Pleased to meet you," Nicolla said quickly, extending her hand.

Hoskins took the proffered hand and nodded. "Pleasure ma'am. Hoskins Blaine."

"Captain Sheil has offered a very intriguing proposal, and I have agreed to back her operation." Marcolous continued. "To that end, please escort her to the armory and hanger so that she can acquire what she needs. Also, give her an office and access to our personnel files. She'll be choosing a team for a very special mission."

"Yes sir," Hoskins replied curtly.

"Additionally," Marcolous added. "Detail two men to accompany Mister Billans at all times."

"Sir?" Hoskins looked over at Dade.

"His access is to be restricted," Marcolous shook his head. "He is to remain on the station for the foreseeable future. Secure his private vessel and lock out his access."

"Very well," Hoskins nodded again.

"What are the numbers?" Nicolla continued.

"Seven hundred and fifty thousand should about cover it," Marcolous said.

Nicolla folded her arms across her chest and smiled. "Try half a million, tops, Mister Gaw." She said evenly. "Let's not get ridiculous."

"We'll call it six fifty," Marcolous countered. "Since you're asking me to take a lot on faith here, Captain."

"Six," Nicolla replied.

"I give final permission on the personnel," Marcolous stated.

"I control the timetable," Nicolla replied.

"Done."

Marcolous rose and gave a curt bow. "It's a pleasure doing business with you, Captain." He said to Nicolla. "I sincerely hope that the return on this investment is as profitable as you claim."

Nicolla watched as the one called Hoskins escorted Dade from the room, numbly aware that, should this operation go badly, she would be in hock to a ruthless business man for over six hundred thousand credits, an amount that everyone knew she would be ill prepared to make good on. She had essentially bet her life – her new life – on this mission.

"Oh don't worry," she forced a confident smile. "It'll be everything you could want."

"I do hope so," Marcolous smiled at her. "For your sake."

She turned and exited the office.

Dade and Nicolla made their way back to the Poulas Whisper, escorted by Hoskins and two of his men. These three escorts were like their security counterparts in the upper floor of the observation dome, smartly dressed in clean dark uniforms, with well maintained weapons.

Hoskins directed his two subordinates to take station at the entrance and followed the others inside.

Once the door was sealed, he let out the slightest hint of a breath and turned back to Dade and Nicolla. A small, almost imperceptible smile just touched the corners of his mouth.

"Alright Nicky," he nodded. "What's going on?"

Dade looked back and forth between them. "You know this guy?"

Nicolla smiled and nodded. "How've you been, Hoss?"

"I was doing fine," Hoskins smiled more openly. "But now that you're here, I think my quiet life is about to get complicated."

"Absolutely right," Nicolla smiled. "First thing's first though. I need to see the armory, stores and the hanger."

Hoskins gave her a courteous nod. "Yes ma'am. Where too first?"

Nicolla looked down at her ill fitting garb. "Stores first, definitely."

Blaine gestured to the hatch "This way."

A short time later, Nicolla emerged from a nearby changing room, dressed in black camouflage pants, black tee shirt, utilitarian boots, wearing a weapons belt and utility bandolier.

She stretched and sighed. "Now I feel more like me." She smiled and she slid a pair of fingerless gloves over her hands."

"You look better," Hoskins smiled. He watched as Nicolla tossed her discarded clothing into a nearby incinerator. The receptacle flashed a brilliant orange as the garments were vaporized.

"Let me guess," Hoskins offered. "Armory next?"

"You know me," Nicolla smiled, grabbing a data pad from the nearby shelf and slipping it into the thigh pocket of her pants. "I need to accessorize."

Hoskins gestured in the necessary direction and fell into step along side her. "That's a word for it."

"But I need to see that office he talked about," Nicolla added in a serious tone. "Then we'll hit the armory."

The office was small and undecorated, containing only a desk, three chairs and a small storage unit. The desk was adorned only with a data pad, simple lamp and network access terminal. Nicolla and Hoskins did a quick sweep for monitoring devices and found none, which surprised him.

"It's not like him to not try and monitor what's happening," Hoskins frowned. "Don't know if I should relax about it or get nervous."

He looked over at Nicolla. She only offered an innocent smile in response.

Hoskins suppressed a groan. "Nervous. Definitely nervous."

"Oh Hoss," Nicolla pouted.

"It's not much, but it will work for you," he continued, gesturing to the small room. He finished his sweep and shook his head.

Nicolla offered a shrug in response. "This will do, let's see the armory."

The heavily reinforced doors slid aside slowly and Nicolla stepped into one of the most expansive weapons caches she had ever seen outside the military.

Racks upon racks of weapons mundane and exotic filled the vast warehouse type room.

"Your boss has been a busy boy," Nicolla smiled.

"No more than usual," Hoskins nodded. "There's been a recent slow down in the market hasn't helped much, some Con-Fed crackdown. Those are never good for business."

"But good for us," Nicolla stepped up to a rack of rifles and inspected them.

"Very good." Hoskins nodded.

A single figure came walking quickly down the main isle towards them. He was a thin, willowy figure, pale, with sharp, dark eyes.

He was dressed in a simple, yet expensive suit of clothing that marked him as more a banker or a butler than an armorer.

"Good afternoon Master Blaine and…miss?" he said in a quick, accented and somewhat lilting tone. "I understand that the boss has granted you carte blanche to requisition whatever you need?"

Nicolla looked the man up and down warily. "And you are?"

"For the purposes of discussion, you may refer to me as Jeeves," he replied curtly.

Nicolla scanned him and was surprised to find nothing. It was as if the figure before her were no more than an empty space. The reason was obvious when she paused to consider him more closely.

He stood perfectly attentive and still, with an air of expectation. He knew she was coming with a large requisition and yet, he had no data pad to keep track of the information she was about to impart, nor did he request anything from her in the form of a data pad.

"Synthoid?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Very astute, miss," he nodded, smiling. "Shall we begin?"

"Do you have a complete inventory of your stock?" Nicolla asked, still somewhat shocked.

Synthoids were incredibly efficient but prohibitively expensive. Even in the Core, there were few Synthoids actually in service, and then only with some of the most successful or wealthy business conglomerates or financially affluent families. The fact that Marcolous Gaw employed one spoke volumes to his success as a business man.

At her question, the Synthoid stiffened slightly, as if to cover a small portion of injured pride.

"Of course I do miss," he said curtly. "I have everything tabulated, right down to the last bullet."

"Okay Jeevesie," Nicolla nodded. "Follow me. Let's get started."

"Of course, miss."

From that moment, Nicolla kept moving, pausing only to rattle off specific requests or inspect an occasional weapon.

"I'm going to need a dozen MP-9's with six mags each, plus four ambient chargers, same with P-7 side arms, four mags per weapon, four AS-2 Heavy rifles,"

"If I may, miss," Jeeves interrupted her. "The new AS-2G is a far superior weapon and utilizes the same charge magazines so there is no need for multiple ammunitions for the deployment."

"What are the ranges and specs?" Nicolla asked.

"Increases range over the base model by thirty percent, energy consumed per shot is reduced somewhat without sacrificing impact power increasing clip yields to two hundred-fifty rounds over the original two hundred, and mass is reduced by forty percent allowing deployment without the usual body rig required in the older, heavier models."

"Reliability?" Nicolla asked.

"If it did not perform, I would not recommend it, miss," Jeeves replied with a hint of injured pride again.

"Show me," Nicolla turned expectantly.

The gaunt figure led her through the maze of weapons to a series of newer looking crates. Inside each container were four large caliber weapons.

She instantly saw the similarities between these and her original weapon. She lifted the weapon, surprised at the light weight.

"I see what you mean," she smiled appreciatetively. Even in this chopped form, the weapon was long, rising almost to her shoulder when set on end against the floor.

"Configurations?" She asked the attentive figure.

"Same variety as the original. Heavy support and sniper configurations utilizing the older and some newer components specific to whatever particular mission is being run," the Synthoid replied.

Nicolla broke the weapon back down and set it back in its case. The lid came down and she patted it affectionately.

"One of these then," she instructed and continued forward.

"Of course," Jeeves nodded.

After being swayed to the newer version of the weapons, they continued their inspection, with Nicolla rattling off more orders as they walked. They finished their circuit and Nicolla spied an ornate wood grain box on a nearby table. She lifted the lid and discovered a steel colored pistol with six cylindrical charge caps and holster in a customized storage case.

"This is a DL-90 Retro," Nicolla smiled appreciatively.

"You know your firearms," Jeeves nodded. "Even the antique ones. Yes, this is a competition version of the old DL-90, Mark 2. You'll note the additional scope for targeting affixed to the barrel. The DL-90 fires ten, twelve point five millimeter plasmatic projectiles per cylinder cap, with a velocity of fifty-five hundred feet per second at twenty-five hundred pounds of strike at point of impact. Maximum accurate range is one hundred yards."

Nicolla drew the belt from the container and wrapped it about her waist. "I'll take it."

She slid the big pistol into the holster at her hip and placed the six cylinders in the small pockets lining the belt.

"Well, I," Jeeves began nervously.

"Okay," Nicolla continued quickly. "Now we need to talk about transport."

"Transport?" Jeeves repeated.

"We got a long way to go and we need to be ready when we get there." Nicolla pushed past Jeeves and Hoskins. "Which way to the hanger?"

A few minutes later, they stood in a neglected storage hanger, looking at several beat up old haulers.

Nicolla looked at the flying junk heaps and sighed, turning her gaze back on the Synthoid.

Jeeves merely offered a shrug, wringing his hands nervously. "Forgive me miss, but these were the only ships available."

Nicolla looked at Hoskins and then back at Jeeves. "Uh, huh. Then show me the unavailable ones."

"I'm sorry, I-I-I'm afraid that you're not," Jeeves stammered.

"Does Gaw have a real hanger with real ships?" Nicolla looked back at Hoskins knowingly.

"He's got a couple others stowed away," Hoskins nodded, smiling.

"Show me," Nicolla ordered.

"Yes ma'am," Hoskins replied, gesturing towards the hatch. "This way."

"Master Blaine!" Jeeves protested. "I really don't think that Master Gaw had in mind for the lady to – to – to – wait, where are you going? You aren't authorized to be there, you know she isn't, Master Blaine!"

Hoskins led Nicolla down the curving corridor to a second hanger entry. This one had two guards posted before the door.

"Hey boys," Hoskins said easily. "Crack it open, will you?"

"Sure Hoss," one of the guards replied, entering a code on a nearby pad.

"But sir!" Jeeves cried in dismay.

Hoskins wheeled around and stood nose to nose with the Synthoid.

"Remember something, skin job," he said. "We got guns and you don't!"

"Well!" Jeeves protested indignantly.

This time, the hanger was well maintained and appointed. Several newer, much more combat oriented vessels sat on wheels or skids, depending on design, waiting patiently.

A pair of ships near the back caught Nicolla's attention, they were broad bodied, narrowing to a tail, resting upon three wide skids. Between the two forward skids, a loading ramp was open, resting on the deck and leading into a large cargo compartment.

A pair of retractable folded wing extensions ended in large missile deployment containers, making the whole ship appear somewhat insectoid in design. Forward of the cargo hold was a narrow two person cockpit.

"Are those Suko-7 Assault Dropships?" Nicolla asked breathlessly.

"Yes ma'am," Hoskins grinned. "They're about ten years old, but they work just as good as the newer ones."

"And do you have the Armored Deployment Vehicles that go with them?" Nicolla asked hopefully.

"Master Blaine!" Jeeves all but shouted, his programmed civility being stretched to its limits. "I appreciate that you have been detailed to show this young lady what we have, but I have also been given specific instructions that I must follow regarding,"

"Then you go to Gaw and get those instructions updated!" Hoskins shouted back at him. "Get the hell out of here, we got an op to plan!"

"Well, I never!" Jeeves was taken aback.

"But your designers probably did!" Hoskins retorted. "Hit the skids, Synth boy!"

The Synthoids expression was so humanly offended it was amusing. His mouth worked several times, as his neural net tried to ascertain an appropriate response before it turned with a very sentient huff and walked quickly from the hanger.

Hoskins pointed to a nearby bay and led Nicolla to it, raising the door and revealing two low slung armored vehicles. They were steel gray in color, resting four massive wheels that were nearly as tall as the entire vehicle. A retractable repeating cannon rested on the top rear, controlled by a gunner who sat inside the vehicle.

Nicolla walked along the side of the vehicle, past the massive armored front wheel and to the sliding access hatch. She pulled the door aside and peeked inside at the ten security seats – five on a side, and back to the command center, with its small bank of computers.

"I'll take em," she nodded. She looked back at the Suko's. "You got the LG's and Strykers for the missile compartments on those things?"

Hoskins nodded.

"Start loading them up, and put together a group you can trust." Nicolla looked back into the vehicle, grinning.

Hoskins turned back to the guards at the entrance.

"Beck! Get the team in here to start loading!" Hoskins called. "Stanton, Grab the tug and ordinance for the Suko's."

Both men nodded and vanished.

Nicolla looked back at Hoskins questioningly. "You already have a team?"

Hoskins smiled. "Hey, you never know. I might need to take over this place someday?" He shrugged.

A short time later, the hanger was a hive of activity as loaders walked back and forth bringing ordinance to the two ships. Fuel pods were towed into place along side the two drop ships as Nicolla and another pilot, Marton Beck, an associate of Hoskins, did preliminary inspections of the ships they would be flying while Nicolla secured the access rights to the actual vessel that would transport them to their destination.

The Arcum, an old style Con-Fed transport frigate had been the backbone deployment vessel for nearly fifty standard cycles. Three hundred meters long, and twenty wide, the vessel resembled a gigantic weapons hilt, with its primary armament and receiver antenna extending like needles from the bow.

The lower levels of the vessel contained the weapons deployment, hangar and maintenance bays and the upper two decks housed crew quarters, command deck, and medical facilities. The whole surrounded by nearly a foot of tristeel ceramic alloy armor plate. A pair of forty millimeter plasma turrets adorned the top of the vessel, one at the bow, and the other at the stern. A second pair of turrets protruded from the keel, flanking the missile deployment bays and drop ship air locks.

The entire was colored deep gunmetal gray with two broad red slashes moving diagonally down the sides.

Nicolla smiled when she saw the ship hanging silently in the void. Just behind the diagonal slashes were the vessel's identification number, CFDV-7, painted in bold white letters.

"If that isn't irony," she said, smiling to herself.

A shadow rose over the monitor before her.

"Well, Miss Sheil," Marcolous's voice filled the small office that Nicolla had been given. "When I agreed to go into business with you on this venture, I did not expect all of this."

Nicolla smiled. "Yes you did," she said without turning to face him. "You could tell the moment you laid eyes on me."

Marcolous seemed to consider that for a moment. He stepped around and let himself fall comfortably into the chair opposite Nicolla, his eyes measuring her carefully.

"Indeed?" Marcolous asked, and Nicolla could hear the smile in the tone of the response.

She disconnected the terminal and met his gaze with an even one of her own.

"A member of my research team was able to inspect the Paulos Whisper's refrigeration unit," he said simply. "When you said you were special, I didn't realize how honest you were being."

Nicolla's lips curled upward slightly.

"While the nature of the material we found is not unremarkable," Marcolous went on. "Oxygenated growth compounds of that type are used in practically every medical and cloning facility in the Confederation. The chemical makeup is unlike anything I have ever heard of. And for me to say that, my dear, is a rare thing indeed."

"I bet," Nicolla nodded.

Again, the man considered her closely, and Nicolla could feel the current of his mind working as he did so.

"Why?" he asked suddenly. "Why come to me, aside from the support I can offer you, there are at least a dozen business men in the system you could have, and have dealt with in the past, so?" He rolled a hand in her direction.

Nicolla shrugged.

"You were the closest person with the right material, and I was acquainted with one of your associates." She said honestly. "I have very little time and I needed a lot of equipment, plus I know your reputation."

Marcolous nodded. "So, the idea about a meeting with the Kajano was a lie then?"

"No," Nicolla said. "My friends and I have been working with them. Felix knows how to communicate with them directly and was able to actually broker a truce before I," she stopped suddenly.

"Before you met an untimely demise," Marcolous finished. He smiled when he saw the haunted expression on her face.

Gaw interlaced his fingers on his belly and smiled. "I've never spoken with a replicant before," he mused. "Never knew such a thing was even possible. This has been an extraordinary few days, has it not?"

He absently swiveled the chair left, then right as he studied her. "And, now you want to return to those you left for the purpose of, what?" he continued. "You do not seem the vengeful type." He smiled. "Well, no more than the average female at any rate."

"Some of my friends would disagree with that." Nicolla smiled wryly.

"Not vengeance," Marcolous repeated. "Not profit or personal power. You do not seem the type burdened by an over abundance of misguided morals, nor do you strike me as someone with a hero complex or a death wish, so that leaves only one thing."

He smiled knowingly.

Nicolla was taken aback.

"I've done my research, Miss Sheil," Gaw smiled. "You are the only female in that unit. The rest is academic."

Nicolla decided that honesty would be the best policy.

"My friends and I ended up in the middle of a conflict. All we want is to find a way to go home."

"But you are out," Gaw suggested.

"I am, yes," Nicolla agreed. "Now I need to go back in and get the rest of them out."

"No man left behind, eh?" Gaw smiled.

She nodded. "Something like that."

"And the reason for the heavy ordinance?" Marcolous asked.

"We began aiding the locals," Nicolla replied. "The conflict has been escalating and I need your equipment to help protect a lot of innocent people."

Gaw seemed to digest that for a moment, and Nicolla could perceive his internal debate.

He drew his com from inside his jacket.

"Alright," he said simply.

A few moments later, Dade Billans entered the office followed by the gaunt figure of Jeeves.

Nicolla frowned, looking from her friend to her employer.

"You are appropriating a large amount of my stock, Captain," Marcolous said evenly. "I'm going to want it back."

He nodded to Dade.

"As you were so readily going to profess in my office, Master Billans is a former naval officer, familiar with space transit and ship operating systems, tactics, and combat," He smiled. "I think he would be a valuable asset to you, once you are off on your own."

"And the Synthoid?" Nicolla asked.

"An insufferable nuisance I came across among a shipment of various other items," Marcolous shrugged.

"Master Gaw," Jeeves exclaimed in a hurt tone. "You are not satisfied with my performance?"

Gaw shrugged. "There is such a thing as knowing too much," he shrugged again. Then he nodded to Nicolla. "Take them."

Suspicion bubbled to the surface in Nicolla's mind. "Why?"

Gaw exited the chair with a flourish that left it spinning slowly.  
"I never go into a conversation without knowing everything I can, Captain," he said. "You could have lied to me, but you didn't, and I already knew most of what you said to me. It was more a question of your honor than for any real information."

He nodded to the two figures in the room. "I can trust you to honor our deal, I think. So I give you two more assets to help you accomplish it."

He gave her a nod and departed.

Nicolla looked at Dade, still mildly stunned.

Dade smiled and offered a shrug. "He's like that sometimes. I don't understand it and I don't ask."

"Okay," Nicolla smiled. She looked the two men up and down. "Get to stores and get outfitted, and then meet us in the hanger. We should be ready to go in about four hours."

Dade nodded and turned to the Synthoid. "Come on Jeeves, time for a wardrobe change."

Nicolla headed back towards the main hangar, making notes on her data pad as she walked. The noise of activity grew as she approached and she stepped through the massive door into a whirlwind of activity.

Hoskins stood near one wall, next to a series of crates stacked neatly on dollies. On either side of one crate, two men were quickly and neatly removing the walls of the crate to expose a long pale white missile sitting gently on two small risers.

A massive bipedal hydraulic loader lumbered to the stack of ordinance and the two arms extended, grasping the projectile with its large pincers and lifting it clear.

Nicolla was surprised when she heard a strong feminine voice emanate from the operators cage.

"Clear Behind!"

The loader stepped back, its magnetic pads thudding on the deck plates. It pivoted and lumbered off towards the farther of the two drop ships as a second loader strode past her driven by a second female occupant.

Nicolla did a double take.

Both operators were identical, with soft flowing blonde hair, cut just above the shoulder, and luminous blue/green eyes.

"Come on, Nathan!" The first operator cried impatiently. "Let's move it!"

"Don't get your undies in a bunch!" The man at the end of the next crate shot back as he pried the front wall away from the next missile. He was a tall, thin man, with the lean physique of an endurance runner. His hair was deep brown as were his eyes.

His pale blue shirt was stained with grime from unpacking, and Nicolla saw spots of blood on his fingers, casual injuries received when working with packed materials.

The top and front plates fell away.

"Here!" Nathan called back.

"Hey!" the second loader was back now. "We're backing up here!"

The first girl looked back through the confinement cage to her identical counterpart.

"Let's go!" The girl in the second loader shouted impatiently.

"Yeah, yeah!" The first retorted. Her loader grasped the weapon and lifted it, backing away smoothly.

"Take it easy, Mileasha!" Hoskins shouted.

The girl looked down at Hoskins. Then she jerked her head at the other loader. "She's Mileasha!"

Hoskins looked over at the other loader stepping forward. "Iesha, you just sit tight!"

That one stopped retrieving the next weapon and frowned, nodded to the loader across the bay, loading the missile in one of the tubes on the drop ship.

"She's Iesha," she said, correcting him.

Hoskins glared at her angrily. "You all do that shit to me on purpose! Just get your tails in gear and save the bitching for after we're done here!"

"Go! Go!" Nathan called.

Mileasha scooped up the weapon and backed away, turning back to the ship as her sister's loader came thudding up to claim the next one.

"Pull it up!" Nathan waived to another man, seated on a small tug vehicle.

The train of four dollies moved forward, stopping when a new stack of ordinance was before Nathan. He immediately began ripping the protective crate away from the weapon.

"Work that tool Nathan!" Iesha cried out with a grin.

Nicolla smiled as she stepped over to Hoskins.

"Yeah, I got a tool for you, little brat," she heard Nathan muttered as he pried another plasteel panel from off the front of a weapon.

"Having fun?" she asked.

Hoskins smiled. "Nearly done. Marton's done inspections on both ships and tells me they're ready to fly. Roscoe's finishing up loading the spare supplies into the ADV's before we load them into the dropships, and I sent R.C. and Fillian to the Arcum to get the power up and run diagnostics."

Nicolla nodded. "We got Dade back."

Hoskins smiled. "How'd you manage that?"

"I didn't," Nicolla shrugged. "Gaw came in to see me and the end result was that he gave me Dade and his Synthoid."

"Well, damn," Hoskins smiled.

The sound of a high powered turbine engine rose from the side bay and at the long, low form of the first ADV coasted out into the bay.

Hoskins nodded to the driver and then gestured to the first drop ship.

The big transport vehicle turned expertly and backed smoothly up the deployment ramp.

The ramp hissed as the hydraulics engaged, lifting the vehicle up into the belly of the ship.

The man who dropped through the hatch a moment later was medium build with a mop of dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. He had a good natured face, youthful in a way that reminded Nicolla of Felix.

"Roscoe, Grab the other one!" Hoskins ordered.

"I'm going, I'm going!" The young man smiled as he sauntered towards the bay at a casual gate.

"Move it!" Hoskins bellowed angrily.

The young man practically bolted for the second vehicle.

The air smelled antiseptic, as the scrubbers tried to clean out the residual gasses from the long defunct life support system. Some of the chemical lights flickered slightly as the power passed through them. The entire deck was covered in a fine layer of dust and evaporating condensation as a result of sitting idle for an extended period.

The two drop ships rested in the cradles near the massive airlocks and the sounds of their footsteps echoed in the cramped hanger bay.

Nicolla looked sidelong at Dade and smiled.

"Okay, Navy boy," she said. "It's all yours."

Dade smiled slightly and then became neutral. He turned to the others who stood nearby.

"Alright," He nodded to the two men who had been awaiting their arrival. One was a short, powerfully built man with close cropped alt and pepper hair and a mass of tattoos on his bare arms. The second was taller, leaner and had an air of slipperiness about him. He fixed an almost reptilian gaze upon Dade and offered a smile as he absently cleaned dirt from beneath his fingernails with a large combat knife.

"Mister Prost?" Dade asked evenly. "Status please?"

The thin man sheathed his knife and blew on his fingertips. "Everything's set, sir. Engines check out, Nav and L/S diagnostics showed one or two small things I needed to fix. Those have been done. We are ready to go."

"Thanks R.C.," Hoskins nodded.

"And your report?" Dade continued to the shorter man. He shrugged. "I had it easy -just had to recycle a few chem lamps. The new batch of Cryonix is loaded and the stasis chambers are prepped."

"Very well," Dade nodded. He turned to the others. "I need the weapons and munitions locked down and ready for departure in one hour, engine pretest and Comstat in fifteen minutes. Pre-Mission brief in ninety, then it'll be nap time." His tone and demeanor changed as he spoke, the air of a command officer slowly transforming him into a tall, imposing figure of authority that immediately stifled any protests that may have been forthcoming.

"Captain Sheil," Dade continued. "I'll need you on the bridge, please."

"Yes sir," Nicolla smiled appreciatively.

He and Nicolla headed towards the hatch at a brisk pace.

"Alright folks," Hoskins said in a clear voice. "You heard the man and you all know what to do! Assholes and elbows, let's get it done!"

Nicolla studied Dade's expression as they moved down a narrow corridor.

"We need to be gone in two hours," Dade finally said. "No more."

Nicolla frowned. Then the realization came to her.

"What did you do Dade?" she asked.

"We have two hours before Gaw wakes up from my little prod and realizes that he sent his insurance and his Synthoid on mission." Dade confessed. "It was the only way to get me out of there."

"Dade!" Nicolla hissed, grabbing his shoulder and wheeling him around. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You know you can't manipulate someone like that! That's three times in the last two days! How many times before I showed up, hm? How many dumbshit mental morons have you got on your little leash?"

"Nicky," Dade started uncomfortably.

"Can I trust everyone here?" Nicolla continued. "Are they free thinking or programmed zombies?"

"I've never seen half of these people," Dade gestured towards the hanger. "I figured you should know that we pulled a fast one on Gaw though."

"So I can know that when I get back, my ass will be in a sling regardless!" Nicolla was furious.

"Well, it'll definitely be in one if we aren't gone, I can promise you that!" Dade shot back.

Nicolla growled menacingly and then punched the intercom switch on a nearby panel.

"Beck and Prost, report to the bridge!" she ordered.

Barely ninety minutes after the drop ships had docked with the Arcum. The old ships engines exploded to life and the ship moved speedily away from the ring of Rinos Drift vanishing into the darkness.

Thirty minutes later, the sensors operator was startled by a blood curdling scream from his employers' office.

He set his headset down and moved quickly to the fine armored door.

"Mister Gaw?" he called, knocking tentatively. "Mister Gaw, are you alright?"

Two of Gaws soldiers arrived moments later. One of them slid an access card through the nearby slot and the door hissed open.

The three of them burst into the office and found Gaw leaning back in his chair, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, his entire body convulsing slightly as he breathed in sharp ragged gasps. A thin line of drool flowed from his mouth, darkening a spot on his neatly pressed suit collar.

The new crew of the Arcum settled quickly into the ship, stowing personal affects in the pre-assigned lockers and setting up their bunk areas.

Since he had no personal affects or need for a bunk, Jeeves took a short watch on the command deck, verifying that the proper course had been programmed into the ships computer.

The ADV's were pulled from the loading ramps on the drop craft and opened. Marton, Nathan, and R.C. began more thorough inspections of the ships, now that they had the time.

The two twins, Iesha and Mileasha went to the armory with another member of their team, a sniper named Fillian. The three of them transported and stowed the wide array of weapons that Nicolla had procured, doing a complete inventory of their ammunition as well.

An hour after getting under way, the entire team was called to the briefing room at the aft end of the main bridge. The room was cramped, dominated by a large projector table. There was just enough room for everyone to squeeze around the perimeter of the table.

Nine expectant pairs of eyes focused on Nicolla.

She swallowed and forced her anxiety down, attempting to appear calm and assured.

"Was this how Tyrion felt all the time?" she thought to herself.

"Okay folks," she said aloud. "Here's what we have on our plate."

She keyed in a command and a three dimensional image of their current sector appeared, floating before them. A single red dot began pulsing gently.

"Here we are," Nicolla said. "Rinos sector. And here's where we're heading." She hit another switch and their projected course extended in a brilliant blue line, snaking through several small solar systems until it came to rest on a single orb hovering near the opposite side of the display.

The constellation of stars that made up their destination was unique in its configuration, with several stars extending in a galactic northerly direction before clusters of smaller systems fanned. The effect was a vague, tree shaped series of stars. Nicolla smiled as she recalled another portion of Felix's oratory about their location in the universe and its links to Aragorn's people.

"This is the Nimloth System," she continued. "Our destination is this planet here, Nimloth-2."

"What's the stats?" Hoskins asked.

"Terra norm," Nicolla answered. "Oxygen, nitrogen atmosphere and one-g gravity."

They all nodded.

"Now, Transit is going to take us through the rest of Rinos, part of Mintaka and then things might get interesting as we cut this little slice here."

She indicated an area somewhat removed from the rest, but still along their line of flight.

"Gorath Sector," Nicolla continued. "And we all know who runs that place."

"Janos," Marton nodded, his eyes fixed on the spot like a hunter.

"Exactly," Nicolla nodded. "My plan is to go stealth once we enter their space and hopefully make it through without drawing the attention of one of their scouts. There hasn't been anyone stupid enough to enter Gorath for nearly ten cycles, so their security may be more relaxed."

"You hope," Fillian finished for her.

Nicolla nodded.

"I plotted a course that will put us in Kajano space for as short a time as possible," she went on. "But it still means a forty-eight day journey. So, we're going into cryo."

"Which means if the Kajano find us, they'll have a free target on their hands?" Mileasha blurted out in surprise.

"At least we won't feel it," R.C. muttered.

"Jeeves is going to stay out of the tank," Nicolla continued. "He's going to function as caretaker and lookout while we sleep. If a Kajano ship approaches, he will be instructed to wake us up. Then we can all panic together."

"That's a comfort," Iesha sighed.

"Once we reach Nimloth-2, we'll have a couple of stops to make," Nicolla explained. "First stop, we need to check in with the local authorities, so we don't create a panic. Second stop, to meet up with the Kajano on the planet and scope out the G-tech that's there."

Everyone nodded understanding.

"After that, we're fluid. We go where and do what we need." Nicolla finished. "Questions?"

There were none.

They adjourned to the cryo chamber and each one of them stripped down to their undergarments, hanging their uniforms in nearby storage lockers.

The beds were lined up in a long row down one side of the chamber. Each was a sealed container that closed like a cocoon around the occupant, shielding their bodies from the outside elements. They could also function as life pods in a pinch, preserving the occupant in free space if the ship broke apart around them.

One by one the hatches hissed up into place and one by one, the beds powered up, sending each member of the team into cryogenic slumber.

Nicolla watched as the lights in the room dimmed. All through the ship, the power systems would be shutting down, going to reserve mode to conserve the power for the trip.

She lay motionless, waiting for the tell tale prick in the sleeve on her left arm that would indicate the injection of the Cryonix.

The sensation never came. Just as a sense of panic began to set in, the lid of the pod lifted up and back. She sat up, confused.

Jeeves stood at the control console, his eyes locked on her.

"There was something that was suggested to me, Miss Sheil," he said cordially.

"Oh?" Nicolla got up on her elbows.

"As I have been led to understand," Jeeves said. "You arrived on Rinos Drift as a result of Geiasian technology reconstituting your body in a refrigeration unit, is that correct?"

"Yes?" Nicolla raised an eyebrow.

"Well," Jeeves explained, holding up a data drive. "I have here, the parameters of your most recent physical examination, prior to your departure with Master Chief Darquefyre, and I just noticed your physical parameters are not quite to the same standards, if you'll forgive my saying so?"

"You have a copy of my last physical?" Nicolla's eyebrows rose a little higher. "How did you manage that?"

Jeeves actually looked a bit uncomfortable. "Miss Sheil, my former employer could get anything he required."

"And just why would he require something like that?" Nicolla shot back, dropping to the floor and padding to the console.

She plugged the small device into the port and then sighed as her own medical history began scrolling up the screen.

She turned to face Jeeves. "You haven't answered my question."

Jeeves saw the dark look and the serious expression.

He merely shrugged in response. "I have no idea why Master Gaw would have required such esoteric information, but here it is, and my point is valid."

She turned back and looked down at the information.

A quick command and she was able to translate the data in to a set of bar graphs, one from her last physical and the one just taken by the cryo unit.

It may have been invasive, rude, and even somewhat bizarre, but the data did not lie.

Nicolla studied the information and a resigned sigh issued from her lips.

"As you can see, Miss Sheil," Jeeves offered. "Your cardio pulmonary and muscular stamina have decreased by almost twenty percent. And your bone density has also decreased, not to dangerous levels yet, of course, but on its way. There are also deficiencies in iron, potassium, numerous vitamins and other minerals."

"I can read a chart, Jeeves," Nicolla snapped.

"Yes, of course," Jeeves fell silent.

"Okay," Nicolla looked back at the synthoid. "What did you have in mind?"

"As you stated earlier," Jeeves said cheerfully. "The journey will last forty eight days. The gives us roughly six weeks to get you back to peak condition before we reach our destination."

"Us?" Nicolla's eyebrow rose again.

"Well, me functioning as your trainer," Jeeves offered. "As with most situations like this, you will have to do most of the work."

Nicolla gazed over at the open cryo bed. The idea of closing her eyes and awakening without knowing the passage of hours was very appealing. Still, the Synthoid had a valid point. She was out of shape and her newly reconstituted body would not function as well as she liked if things got difficult.

Plus there was the added bonus of her being conscious if the Kajano did happen to stumble across them. Of all the people on the boat, she was the only one with any idea how to handle it.

Also, it would give her plenty of time to plan out her stratagems. The first one, to rescue Tyrion and the others, the second, dealing with Marcolus Gaw and his ambitions in a way that wouldn't wind up getting her killed.

She looked back at Jeeves and a smile began creeping across her face.

"Okay, coach," she said with just enough sarcasm to register. "Let's get this done."

TBC

32


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"It is within the horrors of conflict that the universe slows. Moments are as hours while days are as years. It is here that atrocities are known, experienced, recorded and the histories of conflict are composed…"

Shin-Chi-Mon

Concepts and Philosophies of War and Peace

Tyrion looked ahead at the simple, unassuming entrance carved into the face of the mountain before him.

"That's it?" he turned to Gimli, gesturing to the opening.

Gimli nodded. "The eastern gate was made small to prevent our enemies from entering en masse and overwhelming our people. It was only one small part of the defenses."

Gabrielle eyed the dark opening nervously. "I'm not sure if I like this idea," she said quietly.

"The way I see it," The dwarf said gruffly. "We have a week to intercept the enemy before he makes it to the pass, ten days at most. And the only way we can do that is to go through the mountain instead of toiling up after them!"

"I didn't say I didn't understand," Gabrielle replied. She looked up at Xena and then back at the ominous cave entrance. "It still doesn't sound like a good idea though."

Gimli grumbled something in her direction and then turned to Tyrion and Silas.

"Well?"

"And you're sure you know the way we're supposed to go?" Silas asked for the umpteenth time.

"Yes," Gimli rolled his eyes. "I know the way and several alternate routes if needs be, we're wasting time."

Xena noted the big man's apprehension. "What are you thinking, Silas?"

"He's thinking this is a lot like Tsavo," Tyrion answered grimly.

"That was four months underground," Silas nodded. "And if the booby traps didn't get you, the hold-outs sure tried."

"How are we on ammo?" Tyrion asked.

Silas unslung his pack and the ambient charger he had been lugging. The clips had all absorbed enough solar energy to be recharged. "We're good there, boss. Four mags each, plus the ones we got loaded. Plus another three each for the pistols."

Tyrion nodded. "Break the charger down and stow it. Divide the ammo and stow the cannon too."

Silas nodded and handed half of the clips to Tyrion. Then he broke the charger down and folded the components into his pack, slinging it back over his shoulders.

Tyrion handed each of them a set of the night goggles.

"Use these only when we absolutely must." He cautioned. "They're self charging, but it takes time and the power supplies have a finite capacity, got it?"

They each nodded as Tyrion handed the equipment to them. His eyes fell on the small pistol sticking out of her small travel bag.

"You might need that," he suggested. "Just make sure you know what you're pointing at before you pull the trigger, got it?"

Gabrielle nodded nervously as she realized that they were actually about to enter the place.

Tyrion looped the goggles around his head and replaced his hat.

"Lead the way, Mister Gimli," he gestured to the opening.

They stepped into the entrance and vanished into the mountain.

"This passage bears left for one hundred paces and then opens to the right into the chamber of Khazad Dum," Gimli whispered.

"Hundred paces?" Tyrion repeated. Gimli nodded.

Tyrion edged forward, signaling Silas to cover him.

Gabrielle stayed near the dwarf while Xena brought up the rear, he head occasionally turning to watch the way they had come.

Tyrion edged smoothly down the corridor, his eyes adjusting to the faint but steadily glowing red/orange light that he knew was fire. The air was filled with the thick thrumming of giant flames.

Behind him, he heard Silas whisper. "Yeah, just like Tsavo."

Tyrion reached the end of the corridor and dropped to one knee as he panned his weapon around the obstruction to scan the next chamber. He felt his lungs freeze in mid breath.

A moment later, Silas was above him, also looking past the archway leading from the corridor.

"Holy," he breathed.

"This is nothing like Tsavo," Tyrion whispered in awe.

Gimli, Gabrielle, and Xena soon reached them and were all similarly awestruck, with the exception of Gimli, who merely saw it as he remembered it.

"By the Gods," Xena whispered.

A short flight of steps down led to a landing, smoothly paved and expertly leveled. The chamber itself was massive, with tall stone pillars hewn from the living rock, rising into shadow to support a ceiling they could not see. Opposite the chamber, numerous carved stairways rose or descended through ornamented archways only to vanish into darkness a few feet beyond. Interspersed here and there against the opposite wall were other stairs, many of them fragmented and in ruins rising to other arches and sealed vaults, long forgotten.

Running across the length of the chamber was a wide gash in the rock that fell to a depth immeasurable. The flicker of orange fires could be seen dancing just below the edge of the charred shimmering surface of stone.

In the center of the expanse, they could see a pair of arched protuberances that may have at one time supported a narrow walkway across the conflagration.

The ends hung in ruins, and to either side of it, massive slabs of stone had been dropped to provide means of crossing the pit.

"There are the pillars that marked the bridge of Khazad-Dum," Gimli said in awe. "That there," he indicated the near side extension. "Is where Gandalf faced the Barlog and fell."

"Faced a what?" Silas asked.

Tyrion shook his hand dismissively. "Where too?"

"Across the pit and through the second arch there," Gimli indicated an ornate stair rising one story to a dark archway.

Tyrion nodded, his eyes scanning the chamber and noting the numerous pieces of large stone debris, obviously from portions of the above superstructure.

"Si," he said, lowering his weapon and dropping his pack. "Suppressors on all weapons."

Silas nodded and did the same. The two men removed and quickly attached a long cylindrical accessory to the ends of the MP-9 and P-7 barrels.

Tyrion then reattached his pack and looked back at Gabrielle. "You, do not fire your weapon unless you have absolutely no choice, got it?"

Gabrielle nodded, though her frown of confusion was plain.

"Any loud noise might bring the ceiling down on our heads," Xena said, looking aloft into the shadows.

"Let's get moving," Gimli said impatiently. He pushed forward, but Tyrion held him back. "Easy now. Let's just make sure first, okay?"

He drew his binoculars and set the spectrum for infra red, then he began slowly to scan the darkness surrounding them.

Silas did the same.

"Anything?" Tyrion asked as he searched the flickering images for movement.

"Nothing," Silas replied. Then he froze. "Whoa, hang on a sec. I got four on a ledge, one o'clock high."

Tyrion panned in the indicated direction and found the four crouching shapes high above. The way they paced or moved was all Tyrion needed to see in order to know these beings were not even remotely human. In the amorphous shapes on his display he could make out gaunt limbs, long pointed ears, and bow legs. They crouched at the edge of the ledge, occasionally looking back and forth over the chamber below.

"We have four on a ledge, three levels up," Tyrion whispered. "They're watching the bridges. We go across and they'll either pick us off or sound an alert."

Gimli squinted looking up in the general direction as Silas and Tyrion. "I see nothing."

"Trust me, they're there." Tyrion replied.

Silas handed his spotter glasses to the dwarf who tentatively held them up to his eyes and started when he saw the four figures.

"What are they doing?" Xena asked.

"Just watching," Tyrion replied.

"Then they must not be able to see us from there," Xena smiled. "If we keep close to this side of the chamber and work our way around that way," she pointed off to the left along the chamber. "We should be able to move away from them and find another place to cross. Then we hug cover over there till we reach the archway."

"I like it," Silas nodded."

"Works for me," Tyrion agreed.

"Me too," Gabrielle added.

They edged from the archway and moved along the far side of the chamber, hugging the wall and keeping as low and silent as possible.

Suddenly, Silas's hand rose in the signal for stop. He looked back at them and raised a finger towards his face. He wore the opaque night vision goggles. His finger tapped the goggles twice and then pointed into the darkness. The others quietly donned theirs and the world emerged in shimmering shades of green and gray.

They all looked further into the darkness and saw the cluster of more creatures all lounging or milling quietly near the corner of the chamber.

As Gabrielle watch, Tyrion held two hands out, miming the grip on his rifle, then he put a hand beneath his chin and finally, he crossed his two index fingers together. Silas nodded.

Tyrion took his weapon and raised it, pointing in to the darkness. He held up three fingers and then silently counted down.

"Wait!" Xena's eyes went wide. "They'll hear!"

The two weapons spat, barely a sound louder than a whisper. Each fired a short burst and then nothing. Xena heard the clatter of something falling to the stone floor in the darkness ahead.

Tyrion and Silas rose to a crouch and edged forward quickly.

The others followed and Xena saw the two men checking each body as the neared, occasionally firing a shot into one of the corpses.

In the garish green illumination of the goggles, the creatures were horribly visible. Their faces were grotesque facades of elvish features, the ears long and pointed, and rotting, pointed teeth line the mouths. They wore patchwork armor plates over their bodies, bound by sinew and leather from things that no one in the party wanted to consider.

Gabrielle brought a hand up to her mouth and nose when the stench of the creatures reached her.

"Oh gods," she whispered. "That's just," she suppressed a cough.

"Flanking party," Tyrion nodded.

"I bet my left nut that there's a similar group on the other side of the chamber." Silas agreed. "They wait for a ruckus and then charge in from the sides. Sneaky bastards."

Tyrion looked along the wall and found what he needed. A simple rope bridge, made from leather and sinew stretched across the gorge to the opposite side of the chamber.

"Hope no one is afraid of heights," Tyrion smiled.

They all followed his gaze.

"There's no way I can traverse that!" Gimli hissed. "My weight will snap that rope like thread!"

"Well, you might have to lighten up a little," Tyrion replied. Even as he said it, he knew that the same applied for himself and definitely for Silas. He looked back at the remaining two. Xena might be light enough to cross that narrow bridge, but…

"Oh Gabby," Tyrion whispered lightly. "Need a favor."

"You want me to what?" Gabrielle hissed.

Silas removed two coils of nylcord from his pack.

"We need to you go across that and attach these to something strong enough to hold our walking anchor over there." Tyrion replied. "Don't worry. We'll hold onto this end here, so if something happens, we can pull you back up."

"That's comforting," Gabrielle quipped.

"Wait a second," Xena said as she began unfastening the heavier pieces of her armor. "Gabrielle may be lighter, but I have a bit more experience with things like this."

Tyrion raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He looked across the yawning chasm and then tossed her the end of the nylcord.

"Okay, Xe," he shrugged. "Thrill me."

Xena drew her chakram out and tied the end of the nylcord to the weapon.

"Ah, ah," Tyrion took hold of her wrist. "That bad boy makes noise and that's the last thing we need."

Xena looked at him icily.

"Big cave, hundreds of nasties," Tyrion shook his head. "Can't risk it, otherwise I would have used a bolt projectile from our gear."

She considered that for a moment. Yes, Tyrion would undoubtedly have something that could easily bridge this sixty foot chasm.

Her eyes fell on the rotting sinew bridge that the goblins had stretched across the space and she considered it carefully. A smile began pulling at her lips.

"Uh oh," Gabrielle whispered. "I know that look."

Xena took several steps back and then bolted full speed towards the edge. Her foot landed on the edge and she launched herself through the air. The leap took her half way across the gap. She felt her foot contact the rough rope, felt it flex and gather tension like a bow string. In the back of her mind she prayed she had not misjudged the strength of the thing, then she felt the spring return and she used it to launch herself the rest of the way across.

She didn't quite make it, and her body struck the far end of the pit with bone jarring force. The chakram came down upon the stone floor and bit, giving her a handhold even as the impact sent the wind from her lungs in a burst of pain.

She clawed the rest of the way up onto the shelf and rolled onto her back, gasping quietly.

After a few moments she smiled. "Made it," she whispered over the com.

"Well, I'm thrilled and impressed," Tyrion hissed angrily. "Now, don't ever do anything that fucking crazy ever again!"

In short order they had the main line attached and drawn up taught, then Tyrion wrapped a second line about his waist and a sling with a pulley wheel hooked to their makeshift bridge. A Second line was attached to the pulley itself.

He hauled himself quickly across the pit, popped the small hook on his belt and dropped lightly to the floor.

The second line was attached to the pulley and then Tyrion called over to Silas. "Okay, bring it back."

The sling was drawn quickly back to the opposite side.

A few moments later Silas called to him. "Okay, next one's on."

Tyrion took up the slack and smoothly drew on the line. A few moments later, a very nervous looking Gabrielle came into view, her fingers wrapped about the sling in a white knuckled grip.

Tyrion caught her and released the clasp on the sling, lowering her to the floor.

"How was your flight?" he asked.

She looked at him with a mixture of anxiety and outright hostility.

Next came a large heavy bundle of Gimli's armor and weapons, followed by the dwarf himself, wearing only a tunic, breaches and boots, and grumbling about being forced to strip down to 'next to nothing'.

Next came Tyrion and Silas's gear, and finally, the lumbering shape of Silas could be seen, hauling itself hand over hand to their side of the pit.

The sling was disassembled and stowed and the two soldiers slung their packs as Gimli redressed himself as quietly as possible.

"Piece of cake," Silas grinned.

The whole party moved to a place on the edge of the hall, behind a large pile of broken stone.

Through the goggles, they could make out the cluster of figures on the ledge above.

"Okay, Gimli," Tyrion peered out at the myriad of stair ways and arches on the far face of the hall. "Which one do we want again?"

Gimli crouched beside Tyrion holding a pair of their goggles in his hand as he adjusted his iron helm. He held the goggles to his face and took in a sharp, surprised breath.

"Amazing," he whispered.

"Which entrance?" Tyrion pressed.

"There," Gimli indicated a wide avenue between two narrow ascending stairs. "That will take us to the Halls of Durin II, and then down to the lower workings."

Tyrion looked back up at the contingent above and then the necessary archway. "You think those boys can see that far in this light?"

Gimli grunted quietly. "Hard to say. These goblins have long dwelt here, they mayhap be able to pierce this gloom."

"One way to find out, then." Tyrion rose to a crouch. "Sit tight till I get in position, then as I call you, come to me using the same route, same pauses, and for Sagan's sake, keep quiet."

Everyone nodded.

Tyrion moved like an extension of shadow, from outcropping, to doorpost, to column, always keeping out of sight of the watchers above. At each pause, he would look up at the shelf and observe the contingent for a moment, assuring himself that he had not been observed.

He reached the indicated archway unseen and crouched there against the edge of the far stairs, his rifle trained on the figures above.

Once he was settled he gazed through the scope and watched the goblins above, milling about, completely unaware of his presence.

His finger touched the send switch on his com.

"Gimli," he whispered.

Silas reached over and tapped Gimli on the shoulder. "You're up. Stay low and slow."

Gimli drew his axe and crouched low as he followed Tyrion's path with fewer pauses, freezing only once when his axe blade accidentally contacted a piece of protruding stone.

Instantly he was behind cover, gazing through the miraculous goggles at Tyrion's glaring face.

Tyrion held his hand up in a staying gesture and then looked back up at the goblins.

Several of the creatures were standing at the edge, gazing down into the chamber, searching for the source of the strange errant sound.

"Stay low," Tyrion whispered as quietly as he dared.

The moments stretched out with agonizing deliberation as Tyrion watched the figures above. Finally, one by one, they began to lose interest and, began returning to their other activities.

"Wait for it," Tyrion whispered to himself quietly. He looked back over to where Gimli was concealing himself, and saw the dwarf peering back at him.

Gimli gave an impatient gesture, and Tyrion held his hand firmly still, commanding him to stay.

Finally, the last of the goblins turned away from the edge of their shelf.

Tyrion motioned for Gimli to continue. The dwarf finished his circuit and came to a stop behind Tyrion, puffing gently.

"Took them long enough," he grumbled.

Tyrion looked back at the dwarf critically and held one finger to his lips, commanding silence. Then he tapped his com again.

"Gabrielle," he whispered.

The young bard emerged from concealment and began moving from point to point, with much more care than her predecessor. Tyrion's eyebrow rose when he noticed that she held her pistol in her hands, just as Felix had instructed her, and checked the shelf at each point, making sure she hadn't been spied from the shelf above. The only thing wrong was that the bard had her finger resting upon the trigger. A misstep might result in the weapon discharging, and then the game would be up.

"Finger off the trigger, Gabs," he whispered when she made her next pause.

She held the weapon up for him to see, her finger now resting along the barrel of the gun. Tyrion nodded and she resumed her journey.

She reached them and moved past Gimli a bit further into the tunnel. Soon Xena and Silas were beside them.

Tyrion looked at Gimli, pointed at him and then made a walking motion with two fingers of his hand before pointing down the tunnel.

"Why can't," Gimli whispered. Tyrion's hand clamped over his mouth and he shook his head emphatically, pointing up and behind them.

He removed his hand and repeated the gestures.

Gimli gave him a critical look and, with a soft grunt of disapproval, he turned and led them deeper into the tunnel.

Felix looked up through the thick intertwining branches and watched the stars twinkle in the heavens. The fire crackled nearby and the smells of pine, carbon and earth enfolded him as he lay on the grass.

He let his head roll to the left and looked across the open flames to where Mavon lay, slumbering. His MP9 lying across his chest and his hand on the grip.

Further away sat Legolas, his legs crossed comfortably beneath him as he stared into the dancing flames.

"Don't you ever sleep?" Felix asked. He nodded to the form of the elf girl who lay beneath a blanket, slumbering.

Legolas's eyes flicked in his direction and he smiled slightly.

"Only in times of great weariness," he replied, looking over at the sleeping woman. "And even then, not for long."

Felix noted the look of longing and concern on Legolas's face.

"You know," he began carefully. "Being imprisoned for that long, enduring that kind of endless torture, she may never come back? She may not remember who she was before."

His voice trailed off as he saw the knowing look in Legolas's eyes.

"Sorry," Felix offered.

"What did she do to your friend?" Legolas asked.

Felix sat himself up and took a drink from his cantina. "It's complicated."

"Your friends refer to you as 'Doc'," Legolas said evenly. "Tyrion said that the name is short for doctor or surgeon and that the name indicates a healer. Is this correct?"

"Pretty much, yeah," Felix nodded. "More like the resident genius than anything though."

"I too am also trained as a healer," Legolas continued. "That should make your explanation easier, should it not?"

Felix smiled wryly. "You wish."

Legolas raised a single eyebrow. It was instantly apparent that the elf would not let the subject rest.

Felix thought for a moment. "Okay. Nicolla was a telepath, or teller for short, she had the ability to go into another person's mind, communicate silently, and numerous other things, with me?"

Legolas nodded.

"Being able to heal the mind, just like the body, means that you also learn how to harm it. Opposite cause, opposite effect."

"I understand," Legolas nodded again. "You are saying that Nicolla could also attack a person's mind, just as easily as she could heal it?"

Felix nodded. "It isn't a physical attack, you understand. More like being overwhelmed by bad dreams or visions. It's a power that very few can master, but when they do…" His voice dropped off at the myriad of inferences.

"And apparently, your friend there has the same latent talent." He gestured to the sleeping woman in order to cover the fact that he had, once again, forgotten her name.

He paused suddenly. It was so uncharacteristic of him to forget a name, no matter how unique or exotic. He was used to memorizing whole texts with a casual glance. He could still recall the names of every member of every unit he had served with and the locations or campaigns they had been in. He knew every page of every text he had ever studied in mathematics, science, medical studies, and engineering, so why in the twin moons was he having trouble recalling this one person's name?

"Master Felix?" Legolas asked.

Something was tickling the back of his mind as he considered.

He got to his feet.

"Give me a second," Felix said quietly. "I want to check something out. I'll be right back."

"Or course," Legolas nodded.

Felix grabbed his rifle and moved away from the fire and out of sight, making sure to interpose some trees between himself and Celebrian.

"Celebrian!" Felix stopped short. "That's her name!" He grinned and looked back towards the glow of the fire suspiciously.

He did a quick circuit of the area so as to return to the camp from a different location and headed back. As soon as he was within eyesight of the elf woman, her name slipped from his memory as gently as a leaf blowing on the wind. If he had not been alert to the possibility, the lapse may have gone unnoticed.

As it was, alert to the possibility, Felix caught it easily. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Tricky, little girl," he thought. "Very tricky."

"All well, Master Felix?" Legolas asked.

"Yeah," Felix settled back down and sighed. "Just a little jumpy, I suppose."

He took a drink from his cantina again. "Anyway, as I was saying. Nicolla learned how to heal and attack the mind of another," He gestured to the elf woman again. "Just as your friend also can."

It hurt to discuss the demise of a friend, but at the same time, it was necessary. "She overloaded Nicolla's mind, and almost did the same to Gabrielle." He gestured to the fire.

"Think of it like boiling an egg in hot water. Nicolla's skull was the egg. The resulting overload burst blood vessels and capillaries which is why she and Gabrielle got the nose bleeds."

"She might have done the same to young Gabrielle?" Legolas asked in shock.

"She started to, yeah," Felix nodded. "Then when she got distracted and Gabs hit her, the hold was broken and the cooking stopped."

"I am sorry," Legolas said sincerely. "I do not know why," His voice faltered.

"Legolas," Felix nodded. "She's been cooped up in a cell, getting all manner of bad things done to her for several hundred of my lifetimes. She's probably going to be a bit unstable."

"And what of Nicolla?" Legolas asked.

"She's dead Legs," Felix said simply. "But here, I suppose that means she'll get another chance."

Felix pulled out a nutrient bar and munched on it. "Whoever or whatever kept her alive," he gestured to Legolas's companion. "Did so by reconstituting her physical body whenever they needed to. It's the same thing that happened to me, so I think it's safe to assume the same thing will happen to Nicky as well. We just need to figure out where and when she'll be reconstituted."

Legolas studied Felix for a moment and frowned. "Felix, do you know where and when?"

Felix smiled and shook his head. "Nope. But if I know Nicky, and if there's a way, she'll find it." There was something smug in that last statement that Legolas surmised there was more to it than just hopeful optimism.

"Felix?" He asked.

Felix smiled and gave him a wink as he finished his nutrient bar. He stretched back out on the ground and put an arm behind his head comfortably.

"You understand that I will not be able to leave my lady behind when we reach Lothlorien," Legolas said suddenly. "I must stay with her."

Felix looked over and frowned.

"I can, of course, help direct you back to your friends," Legolas added quickly. "But the lady will require my care for some time."

"I hear you," Felix nodded. "Well, wake us up in about six hours and we'll start the next leg, okay?"

Legolas nodded.

They had been moving in these dark, dank tunnels for what had seemed like a lifetime now. Gabrielle's head turned as she struggled to pierce the inky gloom before her. She wished the miraculous goggles would recharge more quickly.

Ahead, she could see the light on Tyrion's weapon moving along the floor before them. Behind her, she heard the steady reassuring thump of Silas's boots.

At first, their progress had been good. They had left the chamber and its watchful occupants far behind and gone steadily down deeper into the mountain along well built paths.

Countless arched corridors opened on either side of the tunnel, and Gabrielle had frightening visions of shadowy fingers reaching out to grasp them and drown them in the darkness every time they passed one. Cold, damp air caressed her face at each intersection. The only sound was the sounds of their own feet and the occasional grunt or stifled cough.

"Ssst," Tyrion hissed quietly, once again bringing them to a halt. Before them was yet another crevice, sinking into the depths. They had been forced to traverse many of them lately as the path they traveled became more and more neglected.

The path itself was wide enough for four to walk abreast. Despite this, they had marched single file, the better to protect everyone in the party.

Now they all stood close to the edge watching as Tyrion panned his light across the darkness to the far edge of the depression.

The opposite side was ten feet away, and continued beyond the range of the feeble light.

From the depths below came the sound of gurgling water.

"Here we go again," Silas grumbled.

One by one, they each leapt the gap, landing sturdy on the opposite side.

"Every time we do that," Gabrielle gasped, looking back at the drop. "I'm so afraid I'm going to miss the other side."

Xena smiled and gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

They traversed nearly a dozen such obstacles before they reached a section that was undamaged.

"How far down are we?" Xena asked quietly.

Tyrion stopped and removed his data pad, holding it up and out from his body. He entered a series of commands and then held still.

The readout flashed once and printed a response on the screen.

"More than a mile," he said, sliding the data pad back into its place.

"How do you know that?" Xena replied.

"Cause the max range on those things, solo, is a mile," Silas answered.

"How much further down do we have to go?" Gabrielle asked.

"Another four leagues along this path and then we should reach the Chamber of Barathrur," Gimli said. "From there, we can turn more northerly, pass through the old Mithril workings, and begin to ascend the steps of Durin's Towers."

He looked at the inquisitive faces. "From that point, we begin climbing up towards the Red Horn Gates and the pass of Caradrass."

"Sounds simple to me," Silas grumbled.

"How long?" Tyrion asked.

"If we set a good pace," The dwarf considered. "Four days, perhaps five."

"It feels like we've been in here that long already," Gabrielle complained.

"The Pass can take as long as a fortnight to negotiate, even in the best of times," Gimli went on. "Even if we encounter obstacles, we should still reach the summit long before the enemy does."

A little less than an hour later, they stood before yet another obstacle.

"You know," Tyrion growled. "If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all."

The light panned across the floor and down through the clear water filling the tunnel. As the beam continued forward they could see the path descending through a nearby arch before vanishing beneath the glassy surface.

"Well, that does it," Gabrielle sighed.

"What's our best alternate route, Gimli?" Xena asked.

The dwarf considered for a moment.

"We should go back to the chamber of Zanzarbul and we can take the easterly passage, it should climb up, avoiding the damage caused by Gandalf's battle in the Chamber of Mazarbul, I think."

"All the way back to that main chamber?" Gabrielle moaned. The journey had taken a short eternity. "That means jumping back across all those pitfalls again."

"I fear it does," Gimli nodded.

Tyrion sighed. "Well, if we got to, we got to." He adjusted his pack and turned back. "Let's go people. Time is money."

Silas looked down at the water, then back up at the ceiling and back the way they had come. "You all ain't paying me enough for this shit," he grumbled as he followed the others.

They had barely gone a mile, and had only traversed the first two pitfalls when the passage ahead erupted with the screeching echoes of harsh voices.

"What the hell?" Silas cried in alarm, his weapon snapping up to ready.

"Back!" Tyrion hissed. "Get back down that passage!"

They turned and went as fast as they could safely go until they had jumped the crevices a second time.

Passages on either side echoed with cries and the stomping sound of hundreds of iron shod feet.

The cacophony died away somewhat as they passed the final set of cross tunnels before Silas's booted feet splashed in the water.

"Damn!" He cursed, stepping back out quickly. "That's cold!"

"Si!" Tyrion hissed. He was kneeling against the corridor, his weapon pointed back down the passage.

The big man stepped quickly across from Tyrion and assumed a similar position.

"How many rebreathers have we got?" Tyrion asked quickly as the thunder of drums and booted feet approached the nearest tunnel.

"Five or six," Silas replied nervously. Then he looked across at Tyrion and back at the others as the realization set in. "Ah man, you ain't?"

Tyrion only shrugged.

"Man, those re-brees are only good for about an hour!" Silas said. "How do you know we'll find a breathable patch before they give out?"

"You got a better idea?" Tyrion shot back. "Break them out!"

Silas lowered his weapon and shrugged out of his pack, rummaging around until he found the wrapped bundle of small boxes.

He ripped the seal free and tossed one to each of the others.

"Hold these in your teeth and breathe through your mouth," he said quickly.

Gimli looked at the small cylindrical object skeptically. "This will let me breathe?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Underwater?" Gimli looked back at the flooded passage.

"Get them moving, Si!" Tyrion ordered. "Company's coming!"

Xena looked down at the rebreather and remembered a time when she had been required to use one in the past, during her rescue from the clutches of her former ally, Alsydious. She had used it when Silas and Mavon had secreted from his keep during Tyrion's first visit to her world.

She handed the next one to Gabrielle and showed her how to hold it in her mouth. The young bard was obviously terrified.

"Gimli, you take lead," Tyrion instructed. "Followed by Silas, Xena, Gabs, and then me covering our six. Go!"

The dwarf stepped into the passage, going forward and down, ignoring the biting cold of the water. He turned back and found Silas right behind him.

Silas pulled his own rebreather from his mouth and nodded. "This water ain't getting no warmer man."

Xena hissed between her teeth as the frigid water came in touch with her flesh. She did her best to ignore the stinging cold and pressed forward.

Gabrielle's eye went wide and her jaw dropped. She would have cried out in shock had the cold water not snatched her breath away. She looked back and saw Tyrion backing into the water behind her. Ahead of her, Xena's head vanished beneath the surface.

The water struck her belly, soaking into her garments and she froze in place against her will.

Tyrion bumped into her and spun around.

"Go!" he hissed.

It took a little while for her to get enough breath to speak, and event hen, her voice was no more than a sharp whisper.

"I can't!" She looked up at him, her eyes wide with shock.

A flood of dark shapes burst from the nearby side passage, turning up the way the party had come.

Tyrion turned back and aimed his weapon back down the passage.

Suddenly, there was a different cry among the jostling horde and several heavily clad and armed figures charged down towards them with weapons raised.

Tyrion fired and cut them down. The attackers fell, but the damage was done. The entire column stopped dead, wheeled around and charged.

He set his rebreather to his teeth, turned, and grabbed Gabrielle beneath the arm, dragging her down into the water. Gabrielle has just enough wit left to put the strange object in her mouth before the knives of ice covered her head.

The world became silent. Behind her, she could hear the deep thrumming of weapons hacking at the water and the muffled cries of their frustrated enemy.

Tyrion let his rifle fall back against his vest and drew out his combat knife.

Beyond him, she could see the roiling, bubbling water where the orcs were trying to pursue them.

Tyrion's hand gently pushed her further back down the flooded passage, further away from the rabid horde.

Suddenly, a figure swam before them, a wicked knife in its inhuman teeth. It snatched the weapon and stabbed at Tyrion.

The two figures grappled, thrashing about in the water, their weapons slashing and stabbing in a deliberate, horrible pantomime.

In a move that seemed too quick for someone hindered by water, Tyrion wrapped his arm up and around the orc, clutching his forearm about the throat while his free hand trapped the claw wielding the knife.

The orc struggled, but the need for air had already been nearing and in a few moments, the thrashing of the creature subsided and its pale eyes went dim.

Tyrion let the corpse float to the floor of the tunnel. He stooped and retrieved the creatures' knife, handing it to Gabrielle.

She took the weapon and looked back at the entrance.

There were more deep rumbles of splashes, which meant more orcs diving into the water after them.

Tyrion tapped her on the shoulder and then pointed down the hall urgently. She turned and fled, half walking, half swimming as swiftly as the water would allow.

Several of the orcs swam out of the shadows but were forced to turn away without engaging them.

From that point on, the underground world of the dwarves was eerily silent around them. The five figures moved slowly through the cold water. From each of the narrow cylindrical rebreathers, occasional steams of bubbles exited the ends as the travelers exhaled. Silas pulled an object from one of his pockets and there was a brilliant explosion of light as the flare ignited. Bubbles of flash boiled water and gasses roiled, hissing furiously toward the ceiling.

The submerged corridor burst into existence. The water was crystal clear and the flares light extended into the distance burning the shadows away. The tunnel extended arrow straight until it vanished in the distant shadows.

Gimli looked up at him, his eyes wide and Silas nodded, pointing down the tunnel, indicting that the dwarf should lead on.

Xena looked around her in wonder at the craftsmanship of the stonework. The corridor was worked and faced in smooth gray stone that went deeper into the mountain. Despite being submerged, the stones showed no signs of excessive wear. It may have been completed yesterday for all she could tell. She caught herself before trying to speak a word of appreciation as some of the water seeped in between her lips. She looked back at the others and saw the same wide eyed appreciation in Gabrielle's eyes despite the fact that she was shivering in the frigid water.

Behind her, Tyrion was motioning forward, indicating that they should proceed.

They continued, occasionally seeing the silver flash of fish, frightened by their encroaching light, as the flipped and darted away from them.

They continued on, deeper and deeper into the very bowels of the mountain. The flare finally sputtered and died. Another one burst into existence a few moments later.

Gabrielle began counting in her mind, attempting to keep the time they spent underwater by the life of those wonderful burning lights. When the second one died, Gabrielle calculated that the flares lasted about ten minutes each.

What was it that Silas had said about the instrument in her mouth? The miraculous device would last for about an hour before it would give out.

One hour? After that, what would happen? Would the water come flooding into her lungs and drown her? Would it simply stop, forcing her to decide whether or not she should suffocate herself until unconsciousness and then drown?

She looked back up the tunnel and Tyrion read the sudden understanding in her eyes. He shook his head and pointed down their path. No matter what, they had to continue.

Three more flares ignited and died as they traveled. The tunnel, like before had many side passages that opened as they traveled. At each one, Gimli would stop, consider them in turn, and then gesture for them to maintain their course.

That was the sixth flare. Gabrielle looked back at Tyrion and saw the grim determination in his dark eyes. He apparently also understood that they were running out of time.

In the light of the flare, they eventually saw the end of the corridor ahead. An ornate stone arch framed the entrance to a larger chamber beyond.

They passed through the archway and into a wide, sprawling chamber. The flare's light expanded outward in a brilliant sphere of illumination.

Thick ancient square columns rose into the shadows. As their eyes traveled upward they saw the undeniable silver mirror of the waters surface, some twenty feet above.

Gabrielle grabbed Tyrion's arm, pointing to the rippling surface.

He nodded and reached out, tapping Silas's arm. They looked about and eventually, through a complex and quick exchange of hand signals, agreed to divert to a wide stairway that rose to the waters surface on the western side of the room. Silas patted Gimli and pointed in the direction they needed to go. They all stumbled up the steps towards the surface.

The world exploded into sound around them as they emerged from the water, gasping and heaving in the cold, moist air.

Gabrielle dropped to her hands and knees, crawling the remainder of the way out of the water. Her throat was dry in spite of the water that had surrounded them. She stifled a cough as she reached a wide platform. Every muscle in her body was trembling.

"I'll never be warm again," she gasped.

Xena stepped over to her and sat down beside her, wrapping her arms around the shivering bard.

"What are you doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"Trying to warm you up before you freeze," Xena replied. Gabrielle noted that she also was shivering violently. "And myself as well," Xena finished with a smile.

The warrior princess was pale and her lips were almost blue. Gabrielle assumed that she was in a similar state.

"Easy ladies," Silas said quietly. He ripped open a small thin square package, revealing a silvery white patch of cloth about the size of his hand. He peeled a piece off one side and reached down, setting it against Xena's chest, just above her bustier. Then he repeated the process with a second package and knelt before Gabrielle.

"Open your chest plate, Lil Bit," he instructed.

With numb fingers, Gabrielle did as instructed, pulling one side of the Rohirrim armor aside. Silas reached down into her shirt and she felt the patch adhere to her own cold flesh.

"What?" she began, almost recoiling from his intrusive touch. Then she felt warmth begin to emanate from the object, spreading across her chest and slowly working out towards her freezing limbs. She was still shivering with cold, but the sensation was warming slowly.

Xena looked up at Silas in wonder. The big man winked and grinned, slapping another patch onto his own chest, beneath his shirt.

Looking past the big man, Xena saw Tyrion helping Gimli with another of the patches before affixing one to his own body.

"Just let them work, ladies," Tyrion said with a wry smile. He hugged his knees to his chest and tried to force his own limbs from shaking. "It'll take about twenty minutes to thaw us out, then we can start moving about again."

Xena frowned at him questioningly.

"Thermal patches," Tyrion explained. "They help trap heat within your clothing and keep you warm. Granted, they aren't useful underwater, but now?" He shrugged.

Silas wrung out a blanket and handed it to Xena.

"It's a little damp, but wrap this around you two and they'll work better for you." He instructed, setting the blanket across Xena and Gabrielle's shoulders. "Just sit tight for a spell."

The flare flickered and perished and this time, they could smell the acrid scent of smoke as the darkness fell around them again.

"Um, Tyrion?" Gabrielle whispered nervously.

"One second," Tyrion replied. They heard him rummaging around in his pack and then pale yellow illumination began to grow from a small lamp he set on the stone before him.

It continued to grow until it reached a volume of luminescence that was nearly as bright as the brilliant white flare.

"Okay," Tyrion continued, digging through his pack for more implements. "Gimli, where do you think we are?"

When the dwarf failed to respond, they all turned to look at him. He sat on the floor, his eyes locked ahead in wide wonder, his body motionless.

"Gimli?" Xena asked.

Tyrion reached over and put a hand on the armored shoulder.

Gimli started, looking back at them.

"Gimli?" Tyrion asked. "What's up?"

Slowly, his expression a mixture of wonder and haunted amazement, he looked back up at a long series of thickly graven characters that followed the top of a wide ornate archway, and in a soft, reverent, trembling voice he recited.

"The Halls of Durin."

When he looked back at the others, he was met with only curious looks.

"No one has seen this place in over three thousand years," Gimli said in a tight whisper. "We must go this way."

"Is that a way up to where we need to be?" Tyrion asked but Gimli ignored him, stumbling to his feet and moving quickly towards the open arch.

"Hey!" Tyrion hissed.

Gimli turned and his gaze darkened slightly.

"We must go this way!" Gimli repeated more forcefully.

"What's going on, man?" Silas asked.

Gimli's mouth worked as he tried to form words, but in the end, he simply pulled out the night vision goggles Tyrion had given him and turned, vanishing down the passage.

"Gimli!" Xena whispered as loudly as she dared. The four of them got to their feet and went after him, Tyrion scooping up the compact lamp as he did so.

The passage continued forward for several yards, with more openings on either side, all ornately and beautifully covered in ways that set it apart from the regular tunnels they had traveled so far. Obviously, this was a much more affluent section of the underground kingdom.

They found Gimli standing at the opposite end of the corridor. He quickly pulled the goggles from his face as the brilliance of the lamp overwhelmed the sensitive equipment.

"What are you," Tyrion began, but he stopped when the light entered this new cavern.

The chamber was richly and intricately cut into the living stone, ordained with amazingly detailed carvings. At the opposite end, on a raised platform, they all saw the carved throne. On either side of it, a long low bench extended from the cut arm rests, obviously seating for others of prominence.

"The Halls of Durin," Gimli breathed.

"I'll be damned," Silas whispered.

Gimli looked from left to right as if searching for something.

He turned and headed towards a side chamber.

"Xena," Gabrielle said in awe. "If you say this is nice, I will hit you."

Xena smiled and patted Gabrielle's shoulder as she shrugged the blanket off and let it wrap fully around Gabrielle.

"Okay," Tyrion handed the small lamp to Xena and drew up his rifle, activating the light under the barrel. He nodded to Silas. "Secure the area and meet back here in five minutes."

Silas nodded, drawing his own weapon.

The party split. Gabrielle and Xena moved across the chamber towards the throne, while Silas and Tyrion moved off to the right to explore a second arch.

A sharp, staccato tapping began in the direction Gimli had departed and suddenly, there was a soft orange explosion of flame, growing to a strong flickering light.

Gimli held his kindled torch aloft and spied what he needed in a nearby alcove.

Though the oil soaked fuel in the ancient torches had long ago rotted away to nothing, the torches themselves were perfectly functional. Quickly, he began repacking the bowels with material from his own tinderbox and soon he was walking quickly around the hall, lighting torches that had not been lit for millennia.

The Hall of Durin began to emerge from the shadows in its entire graven splendor.

Silas let a low whistle escape his lips as he studied the polished columns rising up into the shadows. The walls of the hall were carved with the images of ancient trees and birds in a beautifully detailed mural of life on the surface above. Mingled within the ornate décor was the twinkle of countless precious stones.

In the curved ceilings, diamonds twinkled, mimicking the stars of the night sky. On either side of the entrance arch, a large fountain extended from the carved wall. They were empty and silent, but beautifully wrought.

"God damn," Tyrion whispered appreciatively.

Xena and Gabrielle paused in their explorations, gazing about in wonder as Gimli walked his circuit of the hall, placing more torches.

"I fear these will not last long," he said regretfully. "I have no real fuel for the fires, but I wish to see the hall of my fathers as it was of old, even if only for a short while."

Even as he set the last torch alight, one of the first ones opposite the hall flickered and began to fade.

Gabrielle stepped out into the hall, her eyes gazing up at the stone in absolute awe.

She turned slowly as her gaze followed the ornate patterns in the stone. She could almost imagine the place filled with Gimli's people, going about daily business, or children playing in the vast echoing halls. From beyond the entry arch, she imagined the mingled sounds of daily life moving back and forth along the submerged corridor. Voices laughed or cursed in the mingled chorus of life in any metropolis, and she could hear them echoing down the long corridor of time.

It was a moment before she returned to the present, and only then did she feel the tears running down her cheeks.

"Gabrielle?" Xena asked. "What is it?"

Gabrielle looked back to where Tyrion and Silas stood near the other side of the chamber, their figures fading as the torches waned.

The graven animals in the stone slowly faded back into the shadows.

Near the raised platform with the carved throne, Gimli stood reverently, his hands clasped at his waist, head bowed.

"Gods," Gabrielle sniffed. "Its just so…the waste of it all!"

She turned and gestured to the fading beauty. "Look at this Xena!" she said with a sudden vehemence. "Just stand back and look!"

All eyes turned towards her as she stepped away and spread her arms wide, indicating the entire room.

There was a muffled thud and suddenly, the air above them exploded into brilliant white light.

Everyone started, turning towards the noise, only to find Silas lowering his rifle.

High above, in the rough stone, a single flare burned like a star. The carved reliefs returned in brilliant clarity.

Gimli stepped over and put a hand on Gabrielle's shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Gabrielle said suddenly.

Gimli nodded, patting her shoulder. "I thank you, lassie."

He turned and looked back at the throne of his ancestors and heaved a great sigh.

"Very well," he nodded, as if concluding some internal debate. He looked about the room. Then he stepped up the long steps to the throne and gazed beyond.

"Here would be the armories of Durin," he said. Then he nodded and when he looked back, his somber expression was replaced by something more animated. "Follow me! We may find things we can use here!"

The party followed him up the steps and found another wide arch behind the throne, descending into darkness.

"What kinds of things?" Tyrion asked when they rejoined their guide.

"The forges of my forefathers were the greatest in the world," Gimli explained. "Many races turned to us for the making of their weapons and armor. Though I hate to admit it, only the elves rivaled us in the craft of weapons making."

"Gimli," Xena said gently. "Anything left down here will have wasted away to nothing by now."

Gimli looked back at her and grinned, tapping the side of his nose. Then he looked over at Silas. "Have you any more of those torches?"

Silas nodded. "I got six more in this pack," he gestured to the pouch hanging from his belt. "And twelve more in another pack."

"Good." Gimli turned back and moved down the corridor into the gloom.

The passage descended for a short time, with the traditional side passages opening at regular intervals, and then began to rise sharply, giving way to a long straight stairway that went up to a single landing with an old rotten door held together by corroded bands of iron.

Gimli read the runes above the door and nodded. "Here is the Armory of Durin."

He stepped forward and placed his hands against the rotting wood, testing it carefully.

The spongy outer layer flaked away easily, but beneath that the material was strong and dry.

"Well," Said Xena, stepping up beside him. "That's interesting."

Gimli put more of his weight against the door and finally gave it a sharp shove. The door rattled against its restraints but did not open.

"Okay," Silas asked, looking at the door critically. "What now? Blow it?"

"No way," Tyrion shook his head. "I don't care how good Gimli's folks were at building, that concussion could collapse the passage."

"Stand back," Gimli instructed. He drew his axe.

The others retreated several paces, giving the stout dwarf room to work. He looked up and down the door for a moment and then, with a growl, he swung his axe.

The door shuddered at the impact. The stroke echoed down the corridor with a loud boom.

Another stroke, and another. Gimli swung his axe in a smooth, powerful rhythm, the blade of his weapon striking nearly the same precise location just to the side of the keyhole until, finally, a crunching noise was heard and then the door gave way, swinging open with a loud groan of stiff hinges.

They all came forward into the next chamber and stopped, letting their eyes adjust to the gloom.

"Now might be a good time, master Silas," Gimli suggested.

The room exploded into view again as the flare burst to life.

As they all blinked away the glare, a large chamber materialized from the beyond the glare. The room shimmered with the mirror refraction of countless metals and gems, all wrought into garments, weapons, shield, helm, and countless other accoutrements.

"Son of a bitch," Tyrion whispered in amazement. The articles in the chamber might have been made only yesterday. Countless coats of mail hung on wooden hangers and racks of spears lined one of the rear walls. Shields rested on old wooden stands and swords hung in racks. In a corner, on a long series of shelves, gold and silver helms gleamed in the harsh light, and all around them, the room was stocked with countless priceless gemstones and blocks of unwrought gold and silver.

Gimli looked about the room with a surprisingly pragmatic expression.

"Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what you need."

The world around him was no more than a reddish orange fog. He floated upon it, like a fragment of air.

Felix turned his head, his eyes scanning the swirling fog around him. His ears rang with a soft whispering of voices – thousands of voices. The voices seemed to chant, whispering components of endlessly complex equations, all softly commanding him to participate. Adding his mind to the chorus, he knew, would improve the solving of these equations. The variables were parts of what kept this world viable. It was a requisite portion of the life cycle. He was required to aid in the maintaining of that environment. He could not refuse.

Even as those thoughts and desires gently tickled his mind, another part of him, the fiery, independent portion of his persona, rebelled.

This place was a machine. Its computational powers were massive, but it was a machine none the less. Granted, it was a machine that ran off the minds of living, sentient creatures. It absorbed the logical aspects of people, discarding the emotional, the irrational, anything it considered non essential.

A gestalt!

"No!" Felix cried. He would not be drawn into that state again! His mind was his and his alone.

The red mist swirled around him angrily, drawing him deeper into this horrifying infinity.

Felix shut his eyes, his hands clamped over his ears. He cursed and screamed his defiance as he felt the gentle logical prodding.

He fought to clear his mind, building a protective mental barrier between himself and the universe around him. The voices began to fade.

Then he had the sensation of another, singular entity near him. It was the nebulous feeling a person gets when they sense someone observing them. He raised his head, his eyes scanning the ether around him.

"Where are you?" he whispered, his eyes narrowing as he looked all around him in the mist.

The sensation slipped away, and then came back, just beyond the realm of his perception, like a child, flitting from hiding place to hiding place in an attempt to escape detection.

He caught sight of a shape, a deeper shadow among the mist, as it darted past him.

He gave chase, sprinting after the errant figure, heedless of any potential threat.

The evasive shade stopped suddenly. Felix did the same, standing no more than a few feet from it as it shifted and writhed in the haze.

"Who are you?" Felix asked, stepping forward, his hand extending towards the narrow shoulder.

The figure turned and faced him. He immediately recognized the piercing emerald gaze.

Before he could react, it seems that she flew past him, or through him, her voice echoing in the void even as it retreated.

"Felix!"

"Nicky?" Felix's head lifted from the ground and he looked about, bleary eyed. The sky above was just beginning to pale with the coming of daylight. Beside him, the fire had died away to embers. Opposite the smoldering fire, Mavon lay asleep, snoring quietly.

"Master Felix?"

He looked over to where Legolas reclined with his back against the trunk of a large tree.

Felix sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah?"

When he looked up, he saw the elf woman sitting near Legolas, her deep blue eyes staring at him with unusual intensity, even for an elf. He forced himself to look at Legolas instead.

"What's up?"

Legolas looked down at the elf woman and smiled but Felix thought the expression seemed slightly forced.

"Wait here," he said gently. "I need to speak with my fiend privately."

She looked at him quickly and after a few moments, she nodded.

Legolas rose to his feet and gestured to the nearby shadows.

"Yeah, sure," Felix got to his feet and followed the elf into the trees.

"Something concerns me," Legolas said simply, once the two of them were out of earshot.

"Do tell?" Felix looked back towards the glow of the fire.

Legolas's lips were moving as he tried to frame his words. "We elves have a way," he began. "A way that connects us, in mind, you understand?"

"Better than you think," Felix grinned. "I can assume that there is some form of mental or telepathic link between you and your people?"

Legolas frowned.

"You can sense each other," Felix explained. "Maybe hear each others thoughts?"

The elf breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes. It is how we learned to speak to the trees and the rocks, to sense the world around us."

"I understand." Felix nodded. "So what's up?"

"Even as she regains some strength," Legolas looked back towards the camp. "I still cannot feel the Lady Celebrian as I should. Her mind remains closed to me."

"Well," Felix shrugged. "Given what she's been through, I doubt very much if she would want to just open up right away, you know? She's going to have issues for a while, I would think."

"You do not understand," Legolas's voice dropped. "It is part of the way we heal. Our relation to one another aids in our healing. She is deliberately closed to me in a way that is unlike anything I have ever experienced. There are times when I must struggle just to recall her name!"

Felix caught his breath. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but the perception of the elf was too acute.

"You have experienced something similar?" he inquired.

Felix looked back towards the fire and nodded. "As long as I'm out of her line of sight, I can remember Celebrian's name, no problem. As soon as she can lay eyes on me, though," he raised a hand. "Poof, it's gone. It took a few days before I began to catch it."

"We should reach Calas Galathon before sunset tomorrow. This close to her home, she should be healing more, not less," Legolas said. "Yet she does not. It is as if she does not wish to heal."

"Or doesn't want to go where we're heading," Felix added. He looked back and a thought struck him. "You think her function was to split the team up?"

"What is there to gain by that?" Legolas asked.

"Making it easier to eliminate us for one," Felix replied. His expression became more internal. "We pack a pretty big punch with our stuff. The easiest way to get rid of us would be to split us up and reduce our effectiveness." His eyes focused inward in thought. "Maybe that's what he's doing?"

"Who?" Legolas asked.

"Hm?" Felix snapped out of his momentary reverie. "Oh, just something we had to deal with right after we got to Rohan."

He looked back at the camp and smiled. "Well, at least I'm not the only one who noticed it."

"If you suspected, why did you not say anything to me?" Legolas asked.

"Because I'm not familiar with your species," he caught himself. "Your people, I mean. For all I knew, she was behaving normally for one of you."

Felix considered for a moment more. "At least we both know she isn't on the up and up," he concluded. "We'll need to be careful,"

His thought was interrupted by a cry from Mavon. The two sprinted back and found him leaning against a nearby tree. Blood was covering his left shoulder and chest.

The cause of the wound was easy to find. Celebrian stood opposite the fire, Mavon's combat knife in her grasp. The blade and her fingers were covered in blood.

Felix's weapon snapped up to ready, aimed at the woman's chest. "Drop it!" he ordered.

"Psycho bitch tried to knife me!" Mavon said angrily. He fumbled for his pistol and raised it.

Legolas went to Mavon's side and examined the wound. Then he looked at Celebrian angrily.

"Why?" he demanded. "These men saved your life!"

She stepped back a pace and stood up tall and straight, any hint of infirmity gone. Her eyes were clear, blue and deadly.

"Drop it, now!" Felix ordered.

Legolas's expression melted into one of horror as a dreadful realization set in.

"In place of the Dark Lord, you would set up a queen," he said, as if reciting verse. "And she shall not be evil, but beautiful and dreadful as the morning and the night. Stronger than the foundations of the earth, more powerful than the sea."

Celebrian locked her icy gaze on his and a cruel smile touched her lips.

"All shall love me and despair." She finished in a soft, husky voice.

In the distance, Felix heard the sound of many approaching feet. It was an all too familiar scuttling sound.

Legolas drew his bow and aimed at Celebrian's chest, his eyes filled with tears.

"We got to go," Felix said quickly. He stepped to Mavon's side and draped an arm over his shoulder. "Legs, we got to go, now!"

The first of the massive spiders crashed through the branches into view. Legolas adjusted his aim and released, sending his arrow into the center of the cluster of eyes. The beast careened to one side and thrashed on the earth, barely missing the figure of Celebrian as she stood, statuesque and beautiful, glaring at him.

"Go! Go! Go!" Felix cried as he and Mavon stumbled away.

The three of them tore through the woods as fast as they could, but there was no sign of pursuit.

Their retreat had taken them south and west for a few miles before they finally stopped.

"What the hell was that?" Mavon asked, puffing painfully as he hugged his injured arm to his chest.

Felix was looking back along their path, his breath heaving. "No idea. But I'll bet you ten creds and my left nut that they aren't just milling around back there."

He quickly wrapped a regen pack around Mavon's wound, stemming the blood, and did a quick inspection.

"We'll need to take care of this better when we get clear," Felix commented, his eyes darting back and forth between the injury and the expected pursuit.

"How's that?" He asked as he finished his ministrations.

"Perfect! Beautiful! Wonderful!" Mavon replied shortly "We going?"

"Nag, nag, nag," Felix muttered.

He helped the wounded man to his feet and the three of them continued through the thinning trees.

"We must get to the river!" Legolas said as they ran. "My people left many boats along the western bank! If we can reach it, we may elude our pursuers!"

"How far?" Mavon asked.

"At least two days run," Legolas replied.

Both men cursed aloud.

They came to a small rise and paused.

"You want us to run our asses off for two days straight?" Felix heaved a deep breath.

Somewhere behind them, something crashed.

"Unless you wish to stand here?" Legolas asked without sarcasm. If Felix had said he would rather dig in and defend that spot, there was no question that the elf would do so.

The two soldiers looked back towards the ominous crashing noises of their pursuit.

"Legolas," Felix turned back earnestly. "I would love a two day run. Two day run sounds great!"

"Definitely," Mavon nodded. "Two days, no problem! Can we make it three?"

A hint of a smile touched the elf's features and he nodded. "This way." He gestured towards the west and then took off at a brisk jog.

"Two fucking days," Mavon muttered as they moved to follow him.

They stayed on the edge of Lothlorien, just within the boundary of the trees as they ran east towards the river. The boughs protected them from the sun and wind while the sturdy, thick trunks slowed the advance of their enemies. Despite occasional stops to catch their breath and tend to Mavon's injury, the three of them increased the distance between themselves and the enemy.

On the morning of the third day, they reached the bank of a broad river. Legolas looked southward and then turned, leading them along the bank into the abandoned kingdom of the elves.

The trees were taller here than along the edge of the forest to the north and sheathed in a soft white skin of bark that shone golden red in the light of the rising sun. The high branches unfolded above them into boughs of deep green leaves.

Birds and other animals sang from the heights as they woke with the sun.

"Here!" Legolas called as he rushed ahead.

They came forward and discovered a small, shallow bay. The nearby clearing held an old table and chairs and numerous boats rested along the bank, dirty and a little neglected, but otherwise serviceable.

Felix looked back the way they had come and thought furiously.

"How much time we got?" he asked the elf.

Legolas paused and listened carefully.

A matter of an hour, no more," he nodded.

They made ready one of the boats and then Felix stepped over and turned a second one over, pushing it to the water.

"What's the plan?" Mavon asked as he and Legolas gave him a confused look.

"Pick me up on the other side," Felix instructed. He grabbed three discarded paddles, throwing two of them into the second boat and then pushed off the bank. In a matter of minutes, he had paddled to the opposite side, hauled the sturdy craft up and tossed the three paddles to the ground.

Mavon and Legolas paddled out towards him as he turned and ran a short ways up the bank and vanished over a small rise.

Then he came back towards them, walking backwards in his own footsteps all the way back to the boat. He jumped to a second place on the opposite side of the conveyance and repeated the process.

By the time Legolas and Mavon were almost to his side of the river, he was walking backwards towards them again.

"A false path," Legolas nodded in approval.

Felix backed all the way into the water before turning and hauling himself into the boat.

"Let's get some distance," he huffed as he took up a paddle.

Legolas began turning the boat south, with the current.

"No," Felix said quickly. "We need to do what they don't expect."

He turned and pointed back north. "The only way we can link back up with the chief is if we go that way."

"It will be difficult," Legolas cautioned. "The current is swift in some areas. We may have to abandon the boat sooner by going north."

"We don't need to paddle all the way, we just need to get around the Critter Club," He nodded north. "A few miles are all we would need to circle around her and head back."

Legolas nodded again. "Very well."

They turned the boat north, against the current and paddled away from the kingdom of the elves.

"How do we know it worked?" Mavon asked as he looked back over his shoulder.

"If we don't see them swarming either side of the river after us," Felix replied. "Then it worked."

Mavon nodded, looking back south again. Then he leaned forward.

"Good plan," he said sarcastically.

"You got a better one?" Felix smiled as he helped push them against the current.

The forced their way north for several hours and saw no sign of pursuit. The land became flat prairie once again, and the mountains rose tot heir left, white capped and ominous.

By the end of the second day, they had seen no sign of pursuit. The plains were peacefully quiet.

They abandoned the boat on the western bank and Felix tended to Mavon's injury properly. Within an hour, the young soldiers arm was nearly good as new, the wound healed and the tissues beneath completely repaired.

"No more bitching," Felix said as he closed up his medic kit. He looked at Legolas who stood, gazing southward.

"All clear?" Felix asked.

"Yes," Legolas replied quietly.

Frowning, Felix stood and looked back southward. "What is it?"

He noticed a soft gray shadow rising in the distance, almost too faint to make out.

Legolas had tears in his eyes. "She has set Lothlorien to the flame," he whispered. "She is burning the forest."

Felix looked at the elf, then back at the distant haze, miles away, and then back at the elf again.

"You can see that?" he asked. "From here?"

Legolas nodded and turned his gaze away. "We must continue. You wished to rejoin your companions. We must make for the Dimril Dale and the steps that lead up to Carahdras." He pointed between two red tipped mountains. "The pass is there. We can make it in three days if we set a determined pace."

"How long to cross it?" Mavon asked.

"Three days to the Dimril Stair, another day to reach the top of the pass and a fifth to reach the vale on the western face, if all goes well."

Mavon winced. "Oh, you had to say that last part, didn't you?"

Legolas looked back at the two men, confused.

"If all goes well," Felix repeated. He smiled. "By saying that, you just assured that nothing will."

Felix, Mavon, and Legolas headed towards the three peaks that covered the ancient dwarf kingdom, sometimes walking - sometimes jogging - going as long as their strength would carry them.

On the evening of the third day, they came to a halt on a small flat rise looking out over the plains.

They set up a small camp and looked out west towards the Misty Mountains.

On the distant plains ahead, they could just make out a small shadow.

Felix dug in his pack for his spotters glasses while Legolas fixed his eyes on the anomaly.

"What the hell is that?" Mavon asked.

Felix stepped next to him and raised the glasses, zooming in on the amorphous shape.

"Fuck me," he murmured. He handed the glasses to Mavon.

"It is as if every dark pit of the world has opened," Legolas said in horror. "I see great mountain trolls, goblins, orcs, wargs," he pointed to a gray shadow among the clouds. "Even the bats of the mountains approach, shielding the creatures of darkness from the sunlight."

"That's why she didn't bother running us down," Felix sighed. "She knew the rest of them were coming."

Felix pulled his data pad out and began typing furiously on it.

Mavon lowered the glasses and looked down. "What are you doing?"

"Improvising," Felix replied. He finished his adjustments and then turned the instrument over, snapping the rear plat e off, exposing the circuitry beneath.

Felix attached a lead from his com to the back of the data pad and then flipped the pad over, entering in command codes with frenzied energy.

Mavon frowned over him as he looked from his partner to the shadow of figures on the distant horizon and back.

"Hey," he commented. "Those are sealed circuits. You aren't supposed to be able to alter them?"

Felix smiled as his fingers danced across the sensor pad. "Since when have I ever done anything I was supposed to?"

He finished his manipulation and then keyed an activation icon.

"Recon, Seven, Three, calling Minas Tirith," he said clearly. He paused and waited before repeating the call.

Legolas frowned. "What are you doing?"

"I left a data pad with Merry so he could continue translating the papers in the library. While the data storage was lost when the Phoenix went up, the program to translate languages is still intact." He repeated the call a third time.

"And since I told the little midget not to let the data pad out of his sight, he should hear this."

He tried two more times, checking the transmission strength on his improvised program screen.

"I must not be getting a clear enough signal out." He sighed. His eyes began scanning the horizon. "We need to transmit from a higher point."

Legolas and Mavon also scanned the surrounding land and all of them settled on a nearby shelf of rock, rising steeply from the earth.

Without a word, the three of them sprinted for it.

The slopes were steep, but not overly difficult. As the sun set they reached the top, setting up camp in a small, concealed outcrop of rock.

Legolas took up the watch while Mavon cleaned and reloaded their weapons.

Felix took out his small tool kit and began working on the components in the data pad again, trying to boost the transmitter power as much as he dared.

"Recon, Seven, Three, calling Minas Tirith," he began again. "Do you receive?"

There was an ominous hiss.

"Recon, Seven, Three, calling station Minas Tirith, do you receive, over?" He looked up and back towards where the elf stood, partially concealed by shadow.

"How much time have we got?" He heard Mavon ask as he stepped up next to the elf.

"The enemy approaches fast," Legolas nodded. "They shall reach this place by dawn."

"Well, let's hope they go around us, and not up and over," Mavon sighed.

"You're weapons will not protect us?" Legolas asked.

"Hey, man," Mavon shrugged. "We're good. But we aren't that good."

There was nothing more to say. There, on that small patch of raised earth, they would die and they all knew it.

Felix blinked and sighed. He keyed the transmitter and the recorder.

"Recon, Seven, Three, calling Minas Tirith, do not attempt to respond," he began. "A large hostile force is moving south east from Calas Galathon towards Minas Tirith. Estimate time of arrival is fourteen days from original transmission." He looked up at Legolas who nodded in confirmation of his projected time table. "Secondary force also moving south east from mountain range northwest of same, two days behind. Enemy strength is," he paused. "Fucking huge. This message will be set to repeat every five minutes until battery life exhausted. Secondary force is approaching our position, E.T.A., fourteen hours." He looked up at the others. "Do not attempt retrieval of Recon, Repeat, do not attempt retrieval. Take care of yourselves. Out."

He disconnected the com and shut down all the other options on the pad, conserving the battery as much as he could, and hit the send button. A small green light began to pulse gently, indicating that the transmission.

He found a small, raised area of rock and set the pad in a protected crevice.

He returned and checked his weapon and offered a grim smile. "Anyone have a deck of cards?"

Amongst the countless treasures in the armory were shirts of intricately wrought silvered material, most cut to the size of a man.

The only one unable to find anything to fit was Silas, simply because of his sheer bulk.

"The Mithril shirts will fit beneath your clothes, master Tyrion," Gimli smiled as he donned a similar coat of mail. "You will find them less hindrance than you would expect."

"I can see that," Tyrion nodded appreciatively.

Silas did manage to find a set of greaves and bracers wrought from silvered steel and each of them found weapons that could function better than their gifts from Minas Tirith.

Xena and Gabrielle also re-equipped themselves adding finely crafted bows to their arsenals. Gabrielle replaced the heavy chain mail from Rohan with a lighter, golden hued shirt of Mithril. Boots were also found that fit her, as well as a finely wrought Elvin dagger.

They changed into the new equipment, carefully folding their clothes in their packs.

"Everyone set?" Tyrion asked as he inspected his eclectic mix of modern and primitive equipment. He looked at Gimli. "How fast can we get up and out of here?"

Gimli nodded to a far archway. "Through there, into the second gallery and from there we should find our way to the Dimril Stair." He considered. "A portion of that was collapsed by Gandalf, in his battle with the Barlog, but we may find a way to get past that."

"May?" Gabrielle asked.

The dwarf only offered a shrug in response.

Tyrion was refastening the clasps on his body armor. "Let's cook and book people," he ordered as he reattached his backpack.

The party moved to a second archway on the opposite side of the chamber. The carved steps looked as if they had been hastily carved. The stairway beyond went straight up into the darkness beyond Silas's lit flare.

"We must expect an obstacle somewhere ahead," Gimli informed them.

"How do you know?" Gabrielle asked.

Gimli grunted. "The Orcs have plundered Moria for generations, and yet that trove was undisturbed. It had been drowned in the ages past and I must conclude that this stairway exits the other parts of the mine, but is not accessible to them. If it is blocked for them, then it may also be blocked for us."

"Oh," Gabrielle replied. She shifted uncomfortable as her new mail shirt rubbed beneath one of the leather thongs holding her Rohan armor in place.

Xena paused and did a quick inspection. She quickly remedied the small malfunction.

"Better?"

Gabrielle nodded.

"Come on, girls," Tyrion called down to them.

They climbed for hours with the stair occasionally stopping at small landings where it reversed its direction and continued up.

After ten hours straight, they halted on a landing and took a small meal.

"My legs are killing me," Gabrielle complained as she pulled her boots off and rubbed at her calves.

Xena arched an eyebrow and smiled. "That's what you get for riding Argo so much."

Gabrielle gave her a dark look and then set her aching feet onto the cool stone and flinched as the rock contacted her skin.

"Si, recon up a few more stories and let me know if you find anything," Tyrion nodded towards the continuing steps.

The big man nodded and struck disappeared up the steps, his flare hissing in the darkness.

Gimli set his pack in the corner and dropped to the ground. "I do not understand this. We surely passed through many habitable parts by now. Why were there no doors into those galleries?"

Tyrion sat down on the step and looked back down the way they had come.

They heard the hiss of the flare before the glow returned, and then Silas came lumbering down the steps.

"We're clear one hundred yards that way," he puffed.

"Any access points?" Tyrion asked.

The big man dropped with a heavy thud onto the steps. "Not a thing. Just keeps going up and dog legging."

"Why are the walls so rough?" Xena asked as she rubbed her hand along the unfinished wall.

"What do you mean?" Gabrielle inquired.

"Well," Xena looked back at Gimli. "Every passage and hallway we've been down since we came here has been finished smooth, or faced with finished stone." She looked back up at the ceiling. "This looks like a tunnel that was cut and never finished."

"What are you thinking, Xena?" Tyrion asked.

"Maybe this was never finished? It may just dead end somewhere above us?" She indicated the steps. "Even these aren't done. They're straight and smooth, but not like the other steps we've traversed."

"Always good to have an optimist in the group," Gabrielle commented with a smirk.

"I'm a realist," Xena corrected him. "All I'm saying is that we may have to find a way to cut our way out of here."

"Or blast our way out," Silas added.

The put together a small meal from their dwindling supplies and managed an hours rest before Tyrion got them up again.

Tyrion activated the light beneath the barrel of his weapon. "Let's move out people," He indicated up the stairs. "Silas, I have point, you cover our six."

The big man nodded.

The stairs continued up, pausing every one hundred steps at a small landing where the direction of the stairs reversed, continuing upward.

"We must be in the higher levels by now," Gimli puffed behind him.

After the third landing, they began to see other objects scattered down the steps and on the landings, mostly pieces of bone and the tattered remnants of cloth scattered among discarded pieces of broken rock.

On the next landing they all stopped and beheld the remains of several bodies, laid neatly along the stone wall. Above each of them a series of runes had been carved deeply into the wall, naming each corpse.

Several old tools also lay against the wall. Tyrion picked up an old pickaxe and looked further up the stair.

"This isn't a good sign," he murmured.

"Who were they?" Gabrielle whispered to Xena as her eyes locked on the dark sockets of a skull.

"Dwarves, to be certain," Gimli replied.

"They were trying to tunnel their way up and out of here," Xena said in horror. She looked back down the way they had come. "The chamber below had flooded and they tried to carve their way out!"

"Gods," Gabrielle whispered.

"They sure did a hell of a job, getting this far." Tyrion nodded in appreciation. "And it explains why there weren't any remains of torches or candles in the main chamber when we found it. They used them while they were doing all this."

They continued up to another landing and several more corpses lying in state, then a third landing, and several more bodies.

"How many survived the flood, I wonder?" Gimli asked.

"Had to be quite a few," Silas commented. "Digging like mad down here, trying to get out."

They rounded another landing and came to a stop.

Several rough hewn steps rose up and stopped at a rock face. Lying on the steps were the remains of another dwarf, the rotten haft of a pick axe still clutched in the bony hand.

Wisps of dark whiskers covered the rotting clothing.

The skull gaped open as if screaming.

Tyrion stepped over to the body and examined the tool in its hand. It was useless.

"You never gave up," he nodded appreciatively.

"What now?" Gabrielle asked.

Tyrion drew out his data pad and set it against each of the three walls. He operated some controls and then nodded to a spot on the left side of the passage.

"Well, I got good news and bad news," he sighed. "The good news is we're damn near the outside world." He pointed at the right hand wall. "Ten feet that way and we open up onto the side of the mountain." He pointed to the opposite wall. "Five this way and it opens into a chamber of some kind. They must have gotten a little turned around as they worked." He looked down at the remains again. "Poor bastards."

He looked back at the others. "The bad news is that we don't have any tools to hack our way out of here."

"I still got some blasting gel left over from that lock puncher at Isengard," Silas offered. "Might be enough to crack this sucker open?"

"Either that, or we go all the way back down and continue under the water," Xena suggested. "But we don't know how far we would have to go before we find another place to warm up again."

"If at all," Gimli finished. "The lower halls have been lost to my people for generations. I am unfamiliar with the deepest workings of Moria. We could wander for days before we find another way up."

"Or run out of air," Gabrielle shuddered.

Tyrion considered for a moment.

"Si," he nodded. "Set the charge. Blast us a way in. Just be ready for a fire fight when it goes off. I expect everything in this mountain anywhere near the hole we make is going to come running."

Silas nodded and stepped past Tyrion, kneeling by the wall. He set his data pad against the wall and made his calculations.

In a matter of moments, the charge was set and two long wire leads ran from the edge of the explosive material down the steps.

"We've set," he said. "Head on back down a bit."

They all retreated to the previous landing and hid behind the wall.

Silas attached the ends of the wires to a set of terminals on his data pad. The screen glowed to life and he studied the digital readout, his thumb poised over a small flashing red icon.

"Okay, the concussion is still going to hit us down here, so be ready for it." He looked back up the stairs and then at the others as he set a pair of ear plugs in his ears.

"Plug your ears and open your mouths," He instructed. "Or the concussion will blast your eardrums out."

Xena and Gabrielle looked at each other and, feeling rather silly, they did as instructed.

Gimli's expression was the same as he placed his thumbs in his ears and let his mouth hang open.

"Fire in the hole!" Silas said and, after a quick glance at the others to assure that they were prepared, his thumb touched the screen.

There was a loud thump and a shower of rocks and debris came raining down from above.

Gabrielle screamed as Gimli turned, shielding the young bard with his body.

Xena knelt and turned her head away from the blast.

Tyrion spun quickly, shielding Xena in similar fashion while Silas stayed flat against the wall, turning his head away from the debris and crouching down.

The concussive force slammed into all of them along with a cloud of choking dust. Tyrion bounced against Xena and would have tumbled down the next stairway if Xena hadn't quickly turned and grasped the sleeve of his uniform.

"Nice catch!" Tyrion thanked her as they choked and coughed.

Silas picked himself up and stumbled through the debris to inspect the results.

"Let's move," Tyrion whispered.

One by one, they emerged in a large, finished chamber. Brilliant white light streamed in through massive windows cut into the sides of the mountain top.

Tyrion and Silas panned their weapons around the massive chamber, holding their breath in anticipation of an attack.

The only sound they heard was the falling of loose rubble behind them.

"Okay," Tyrion muttered. "This is kind of awkward."

"Where are they," Xena asked, stepping between them with her hand on her sword hilt.

"There should be hundreds of the vile creatures coming to us," Gimli nodded as he twisted his axe in his hands expectantly.

"Let's not wait for them, okay?" Gabrielle suggested, glancing nervously back at the tunnel.

"Agreed," Gimli nodded. He looked about the chamber, getting his bearings.

A forest of thick gray pillars rose to the carved ceiling, stretching into the gloom.

He stepped further into the chamber, turning about as he studied the dimensions of the place.

His eye's scanned the long narrow windows above them and he finally nodded turning and pointing.

"The upper gates to the Red Horn Pass should be this way," he said with certainty. "There should be a wide avenue at the north end of this chamber, leading up by a winding path to a cave that shelters the pass at the top of the mountain."

"Time?" Tyrion asked.

Silas glanced at his chrono. "We got plenty, boss. If Shorty's intel is good, we should have about twelve hours before they reach the pass."

"How long to reach the cave, Gimli?" Tyrion asked.

"From here, mere hours," Gimli replied, still glancing darkly at Silas.

"Okay," Tyrion nodded. "Gimli, you and Silas lead the way. I'll cover our six."

"Before we depart," Gimli said quickly. He pointed at the new opening in the wall. "In that hold are treasures of my people, lost for countless ages. I would not have them plundered by the dark things that dwell in Moria."

Tyrion looked back at the hole and nodded. "You want it plugged up again?"

"If it is possible?" Gimli nodded.

Silas unclipped a grenade from his vest and tossed it to Tyrion. "Two of those should do the trick."

Tyrion removed one of his grenades as well and stepped over to the opening.

"Get some distance," he ordered. "I'll catch up."

Gimli nodded and then turned, heading off into the gloom. "Follow me."

The rest of the party left. Gabrielle was the last, looking back at him with a delicate frown on her face.

Tyrion gave her a wink and nodded to her, indicating for her to follow.

He watched her vanish into the gloom and then counted to ten.

When he was sure the rest of them were far enough away, he pulled the pins from the explosives and stepped next to the opening.

He let the spoons pop from the devices and tossed them down the rough hewn steps.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted as he turned and fled.

This time, the concussion was a dull thud that they each felt in the balls of their feet. Gabrielle turned back in horror, resisting the urge to run back towards Tyrion.

A fine dust floated up from the ground and a deep rumbling could be heard for several seconds after the initial blast. Then Tyrion jogged out of the gloom. He grinned.

"You weren't nervous, were you?" he asked.

"You always make me nervous," Gabrielle commented as they turned and hurried after the others.

The chamber gave way to a low wide passage that climbed steadily but gently upwards. Along the way, they passed signs of an obvious encampment. Filthy pieces of armor or hide, and the remains of rough camps rested on either side of the path. Here and there they spied the occasional pile of gnawed bones and other refuse.

"Not much on hygiene, are they?" Silas commented as he focused his attention and his weapon forward over Gimli's head.

Gabrielle looked from side to side at the various piles of debris. The origin of some of the more gruesome piles of gnawed bones was easy to discern.

She felt her hand wrapping instinctively around the grip of her small pistol.

"Looks like everyone bugged out, boss," Silas whispered.

"Yeah," Tyrion replied as he casually turned and panned his weapon back down the way they had come.

"Why?" Xena asked.

The air about them was filled with an acrid, smoky stench, and some of the smaller piles of ashes were still smoldering.

"Whatever the reason," He indicated a small ring of stones and the smoking contents. "They haven't been gone long."

He noted Gabrielle's white knuckle grip on her pistol, still resting in its holster.

Gabrielle felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Easy now," she heard Tyrion's voice say. "Don't put your hand on it unless you're going to pull it."

Her face turned to his, eyes wide with growing fear.

She noted his calm demeanor in spite of his intensity. His hand grasped his weapon loosely, at ease. If there was any tension in him, it was only in his eyes.

Her doe eyed fear gave way to a more subtle expression of curiosity.

"How do you do it?" she asked.

Tyrion gently nudged her in the direction of the others.

"Experience and training, baby," he replied. "Experience and training."

They continued through the passages, always heading in a gentle upward incline. They encountered no resistance along their path. Everywhere around them were the signs of occupation, but the resident creatures were absent.

"Like someone called a full muster," Silas muttered to himself.

Xena's eyes widened. "Exactly."

"Exactly what?" Gabrielle asked, grateful for any distraction that took her mind off of their current surroundings.

"Everyone is gone," Xena looked back at Tyrion. "This place is completely empty."

"Impossible," Gimli scoffed.

As if to prove her point, Xena turned and strode back past Tyrion. She inhaled deeply and then her war cry echoed down the passage from them, vanishing into the depths of the mine.

Tyrion stepped forward quickly and grasped the warrior princess's arm, spinning her around and cutting off her scream.

"Have you lost your rabid ass mind?" he demanded in fierce whisper.

Xena arched her eyebrows and stood patiently, her head cocked towards the open passage, listening.

After a long moment, when silence was the only response, they all took a deep breath of relief.

Xena arched an eyebrow and smiled, turning back down the path.

"We're up here!" she shouted. "Come and get us!"

Again, the only response was the silence, broken occasionally by a soft inhalation.

"God damn," Silas whispered. "There must have been tens of thousands of the bastards holed up in this place. You're saying they're all gone?"

"That's what I'm saying," Xena replied. "This place is empty."

"Son of a bitch," Tyrion lowered his weapon and activated the small lamp beneath the barrel. The brilliant white beam stabbed out into the shadows.

The light panned back and forth as he examined the remains lying strewn about the passage. All signs pointed to a hurried evacuation.

"But why?" He mused aloud.

"Maybe they were all needed somewhere else," Gabrielle offered with a shrug.

All eyes turned towards the young bard and she flushed visibly.

After a few moments, she could bear it no more.

"What?" she asked with just a touch of defense in her voice.


	15. Chapter 15

47

**Chapter 15**

After thirty days of running laps through the central observation deck, Nicolla was beginning to feel like her old self. The new body had mostly conformed to her mind, though there were still occasional moments of bifurcation when she felt like her body was not really hers. It was those moments - when her physical ability did not match her natural reflexes - the fact of her reconstitution really hit home.

Fortunately, the constant gentle prodding of the Synthoid, Jeeves, had reduced the number of incidents to one or two a day with his effective training regiment.

She rounded the main computer core, continuing down past the crew quarters and mess hall. Past the officers quarters and along the row of view ports that looked out from the recreational deck.

The rec room was where her workouts began and ended. There stood Jeeves, looking as if he hadn't moved. Only his pale eyes followed her as she jogged past him.

"Excellent," he greeted as she entered the room. "You've reduced the amount of time per lap by another three seconds." A smile barely touched the corners of his mouth. "Three more."

Nicolla glared at him for a moment. If he wasn't a Synthoid, she would have sworn he was enjoying tasking her like this.

Still, she wasn't even winded yet, and when she had first started their little program, she had been puffing after one lap. By the third week, she had begun incorporating obstacles in her route, attempting to improve her agility as well as her stamina and close the gap between what her mind expected and her body could deliver.

She vaulted one of the storage crates and sprinted down the back corridor from engineering towards the command lift as her muscles burned comfortably.

"Miss Sheil," Jeeves' voice echoed from the intercom. "Please come to the bridge immediately."

She skidded to a halt, reversed her direction and bolted for the lift.

When she emerged on the command deck, Jeeves was already working at the communications station.

"How'd you get up here so quick?" she asked.

"We appear to have guests, miss," he informed her as he activated the sensors. Then he nodded towards the central view screen.

She looked up and saw the scanner display. Three objects were closing on their position, flying in tight formation.

"Do you have an I.D. on them?" she asked as she wiped her face off with a towel.

"I do not," Jeeves replied, now at the sensors station. "They have a dampening field active that is making identification impossible at this distance. Two hundred thousand kilometers and closing rapidly."

"Time to intercept?" Nicolla asked.

"Forty minutes," Jeeves replied dutifully. "Shall I awaken the others and bring our defensive systems online?"

Nicolla shook her head. "What would be the point? If they are who I think they are, then waking the crew wouldn't make any difference."

"Very well, Miss," Jeeves nodded. "And the weapons?"

A stray memory clicked: Flying the Phoenix Fire over the plains of Rohan towards Helms Deep.

"_Come in cold,"_ Felix had instructed her. _"No weapons, sensors, open com channels, nothing…"_

"No weapons," Nicolla replied. "Shut down sensors, internal power, and lights. Bring the engines down enough to maintain inertia but no more."

Jeeves frowned. "Very well, Miss. Shall I at least hail them?"

"No," Nicolla replied. "Kill the coms."

"You realize, Miss," Jeeves said critically. "If those vessels decide to engage us, we will be defenseless and unable to call for aid."

Nicolla nodded, wiping a new layer of sweat from her brow. "I don't want us to be threatening to them in any way. We're just a cryo transport ship that wandered off course."

"And if they decide to board us?" Jeeves continued.

"We let them," Nicolla answered. "No resistance of any kind, okay?"

"As you wish," Jeeves sighed, clearly concerned by this lack of preparation.

They waited.

The minutes crawled by like hours. Finally, Nicolla couldn't stand any more.

"I need to see what's happening," she burst out. She rose and headed for the recreation deck with its long windows.

From the rec deck, she was able to see the distant shapes of the three vessels closing on her. The profile was unmistakable. Three Kajano frigates were coming to investigate.

"Oh, Felix," she murmured. "I sure hope this works."

One of the vessels broke formation and moved to link with the Arcum while the other two took up escort positions on either side of the ship.

She felt the soft shudder as the docking collar engaged.

With her heart hammering in her ears, she ran quickly to the hatch and stood before it.

She was unarmed, wearing only her workout garb.

The external hatch hissed open there was the sound of heavy boots on the deck.

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and trying to bring her hammering heart back to a normal pace. She could feel the minds of the creatures beyond the airlock. They were cold, brutal, calculating, filled with animalistic anticipation.

The airlock hissed open.

The figures in the airlock were massive, clad from head to toe in dark armor, edged weapons, and adorned with bony trophies.

The leader took a single step forward and stopped when he saw the single creature seated in the hall beyond.

The cannon on his shoulder whined to life and swiveled around to target her, its red target reticule settling on her chest. The ominous clicking growl issued from behind the metallic mask.

Nicolla's eyes glanced to the small red points and then returned to stare steadily at the beast.

"Hi," she said gently. "I think we should talk."

The figure cocked its head to the side slightly as if considering and Nicolla could feel the mind contemplating her. Three figures stepped into the corridor. The leader looked to his left and then right. His escorts headed in the indicated directions.

"The crew are in cryo sleep," Nicolla said evenly. "I'm the only one awake here."

She tried to project that thought as much as speak it, hoping she was bridging the communication gap with the fierce predator.

It towered over her and the yellow eye panels in the faceplate flashed once.

Instantly, Nicolla was aware that the creature had scanned her.

"I'm unarmed," she said, slowly raising her hands. "Do you understand me? I've heard that you understand our language?"

At this, the creature's head cocked slightly again and it slowly crouched down before her.

Nicolla placed a hand on her chest, indicating herself. "Nicolla," she said.

"_Thugal,"_ the creature grated.

"I can tell you many things, Thugal," Nicolla said slowly. "But I don't know that you will understand it all. May I show you instead?"

Slowly, she touched her index finger to her forehead and then pointed at Thugal's faceplate.

At this, Thugal stood with a growl, and his weapon fixed on her again.

Nicolla held her breath and froze.

"I will not fight you," she added a hint of ice to her voice. She did not want to appear too weak in the presence of this creature. "I know that some of your kind have gone missing, and I can tell you where they are, if you will trust me."

At that, the mind instantly sharpened on her with suspicion. The clawed hand bade her to rise. She got to her feet and was suddenly propelled back against the bulkhead as Thugal's cool fingers constricted around her throat. His masked face was inches from hers, the blades at his wrist extended.

A short, terrified cry burst from her lips as she struck the unyielding metal. Instantly, she caught an image from him and she recognized it.

"Thegar!" She gasped. "You are looking for Thegar!"

Thugal's entire body tensed and the masked face contemplated her again.

The other two scouts returned, each of them shook their head once indicating that they had found nothing.

"I said," Nicolla gulped. "The crew are in cryo sleep. We have weapons, but I am not going to use them against you!"

The image clarified suddenly and she understood. "I will not fight my companions' allies."

Her eyes burned into the mask with fierce determination. "Will you?"

She instantly regretted that. It was a challenge, plain and simple and she expected to have her brains immediately blown out. The glowing eyes fixed on her again, and the ominous growl sounded behind the armored visage.

Instead, Thugal released his hold on her and reached up, disconnecting the small hoses on his face plate.

This action brought confused growls from his companions. He glared at one of them and gave a short roar. The dissenter cowed and nodded his head in acquiescence.

The face plate came away and Nicolla saw the countenance of the creature, familiar in marking and coloration as Thegar. The two were undoubtedly from the same, what – brood?

"_Teach!"_ Thugal ordered, tilting his head towards her.

Slowly, Nicolla raised her hands and stretched out to place them on either side of the massive head.

The outer jaws twitched slightly as if in anticipation and her fingers settled on the alien flesh.

It was cool, almost clammy, like the skin of an amphibian. The tendrils that brushed the outside of her hand had a rubbery feel to them.

The link was formed, and Nicolla showed Thugal everything she had experienced. The sharing was completely open. She held nothing back. The exchange took only a few seconds, but when it was broken, she felt as though she had run another lap around the rec deck.

The fierce yellow/red eyes stared at her with a combination of wonder and ferocity.

In her mind, she comprehended his thoughts. It wasn't words so much as ideas that her mind translated into words.

"_You stood with the Great Patriarch?"_ he inquired.

"_We stood together in battle,"_ Nicolla agreed. _"And your brother has traveled with us since."_

Thugal straightened, looking at his two companions.

"_We will escort this ship and aid the Great Patriarch." _She heard his order. She realized that these creatures were telepathic in nature. That explained the uncanny way they worked in concert without word or gesture. Entire conversations over a mental link could be concluded in a fraction of the time, allowing for action over dialogue.

Thugal looked at her and nodded. He had permitted the link to remain.

"_You will continue on to the Great Patriarch,"_ he thought. _"And when we arrive, we shall go with you to the surface."_

Nicolla nodded and for the first time, she allowed some of her own determination to show. The ridges above Thugal's eyes rose and she heard a growl that may have been a soft, appreciative chuckle.

He gestured to the airlock and the trio departed.

Once the lock was sealed and the thud of the grapple indicated the separation of the two vessels, Nicolla took a deep breath. Then she felt the discomfort in the pit of her stomach.

She darted around the corner to the nearest lavatory and found the basin before the vomit rose up, unbidden and the retching began in a painful release of tension.

"I think you handled that rather well, miss," Jeeves said from behind her. She turned and found the Synthoid standing near the doorway.

"Where were you?" Nicolla asked, stepping over to the wash bowl and splashing water on her face.

"I assumed that you wanted everything powered down," Jeeves replied easily. "Myself included. I therefore retired to the storage compartment on level two and insinuated myself amongst the other regular supplies before locking myself into a diagnostic mode. This allowed me to reduce my total energy output while at the same time maintaining rudimentary observational capability. Once the Kajano had satisfied themselves as to my inert state, they continued their inspection and left me alone."

He glanced at the bowl where she had purged and grimaced in distaste.

"Are you alright, Miss?"

"Much better now," Nicolla replied with another deep breath.

The Synthoid extended a hand. "Come, I'll make some tea to help settle your nerves."

"Tea?" Nicolla asked.

"Since no alcohol is permitted shipboard," Jeeves replied.

Nicolla smiled. "So I shouldn't mention that crate of Tamarian Whisky in the hanger?"

"No, you should not," Jeeves answered. Then he offered a smile that was so sincere that it seemed to come from a living being. "I would then be forced to report it."

The cooling numbness slowly began to fade to a dull red ache. Blessed warmth was the first indication that the universe beyond his suspension capsule was beckoning him to return.

There was the internal buzz in his chest and a soft discharge of electricity to kick start his heart. Then the deafening rush as his own heart boomed in his ears and his own blood began to flow.

Blinding white illumination began threatening the deep red haze of his sleep, and he felt his body becoming heavier, like being stuck in a gravity amplifier.

Finally, there was the rubbery sensation as he slowly moved his head from side to side and the dry, musty taste in his mouth. A groan escaped with his breath and he blinked his eyes, letting the light in.

A figure materialize beyond the confines of his clear suspension cocoon, moderate height, shapely and beautiful, with fiery red hair, tied back in a medium length pony tail, and an expectant expression on her doll-like face.

She was simply dressed in a short, black sleeveless shirt that left her midriff exposed and a comfortable pair of tight black fabric workout pants.

Hoskins frowned as he studied her. She looked the same as when he had closed his eyes, only a moment ago, but at the same time, different. Her figure was shapely and athletic, as before, but now he could see the lines of her musculature with more clarity. Her arms, legs, and core were more defined.

He reached up weakly and tapped the protective shell. She stepped forward and manipulated some controls. The soft whine of the hydraulics echoed around him for a moment and the clear cover rose smoothly up and behind him.

Nicolla stepped next to him. "Welcome back."

"What the hell happened to you?" Hoskins asked thickly as he stiffly swung his legs over the side and sat upright.

Her gaze was critical for a moment. "Missed you too, you big lug."

Behind her, the familiar, pale figure of Jeeves stepped up, holding a folded bundle of clothing.

"Good day, sir," he said cordially. He set the bundle of clothing at Hoskins side and stepped back.

He quickly retrieved a mug of café from a nearby dispenser and returned, setting it beside Hoskins uniform.

"Your clothing has been laundered, and there is a meal prepared for you all in the mess hall, once you have finished recuperating here. How was your sleep?"

Hoskins raised an eyebrow, squinting at the Synthoid.

Then he looked at Nicolla. "Why ain't you killed him yet?"

The whine of more motors drew his attention to the other beds as each of them opened and their occupants stirred.  
Jeeves departed, moving quickly and efficiently to bring clothing and café to each of the revived members of the party.

One by one, life returned to the Arcum, soft groans and other waking noises were slowly replaced by ever strengthening conversation as each person roused themselves from cryo sleep.

They each dressed, had a quick meal in the Arcum's tiny mess hall and then made their way to the various duty positions aboard the ship.

Dade, Nicolla, Marton, Hoskins, and Jeeves made their way to the command center, while The Twins, Iesha and Mileasha headed to the armory for weapons checks.

Gil, Roscoe, R.C., and Nathan found their ways back to the hanger and began doing prep work on the two drop ships as well as securing any ordinance or equipment that may have worked loose during transit.

The ship was surprisingly stable despite the extended Cryo-Sleep cycle of her crew.

Of course, the answer was simple, and it also explained Nicolla's miraculous physical transformation.

"You mean you stayed awake the entire trip?" Hoskins asked with a glance back at the gaunt figure of Jeeves. "With him?"

Nicolla smiled. "It was his idea. He suggested I get myself back up to par before I break this new body in planet side." Her smile broadened. "He was quite a motivator once we got started.

Hoskins nodded. "Yeah, so, original question: Why ain't you killed him yet?"

"Because, unlike most of you," Jeeves replied. "She is a being of taste and refinement."

"Oh, that stings," Marton said, fixing the Synthoid with a dark look. He jerked his head quickly from side to side and they all heard the loud series of cracks from his neck.

"Present company accepted, of course, Master Beck," Jeeves added quickly.

"Ah," the sandy haired pilot smiled and offered the Synthoid a friendly jab to the shoulder. "We talked about this supposed artificial intelligence superiority complex you've been getting lately."

"Forgive me," Jeeves replied, and his features took on an almost smug expression. "Humility is something that I am unable to emulate, given our current circumstances."

"Oh?" Dade asked, his curiosity piqued. "Why is that?"

"Because none of you could manage to maintain the operation of this vessel, single handed, over a forty six day period without becoming mentally unstable." Jeeves said matter-of-factly. "Even Miss Sheil, here, would have been hard pressed to retain her sanity alone, here, without my company as a mental anchor."

"Damn," Marton smiled. "You are getting a superiority complex, aren't you?"

"I merely relate the facts as they are presented," Jeeves countered easily.

They entered the command bridge, a small, armored circular chamber in the forward section of the vessel.

Hoskins headed for the weapons station, while Marton took his place at the helm controls.

Nicolla took her place at a secondary command station while Jeeves stepped easily to the engineering and navigation position.

"What's our status?" Nicolla asked as they each logged into their stations and began sorting the preferences on the screens.

"Systems nominal," Marton called first. "Auto Nav system engaged, we are in the Nimloth System, on course, projected arrival is forty two, point four, hours."

"Engineering reports all systems nominal," Jeeves added. "Environmental systems are functioning within necessary parameters. Course speed and arrival time confirmed, forty two, point four."

He adjusted several controls. "Our escorts show similar status."

Dade looked over at the Synthoid questioningly. "Escorts?"

"Yes, Master Billans," Jeeves replied. "The three Kajano Frigates presently escorting us."

The Synthoid looked up at the others. With the exception of Nicolla, they had all paled noticeably.

"Three Kajano Frigates?" Dade asked.

"Yes Master Billans," Jeeves replied. "You do not approve?"

"He did not expect it," Nicolla smiled.

"Hoskins," Dade ordered. "Charge weapons, but do not bring the targeting system online, yet."

"Not a good idea, Dade," Nicolla shook her head. "They've obviously seen the power systems come up as you all came out of cryo, and I'm sure they know that the other systems have come back online. Their sensor gear is better than ours."

She manipulated the controls on her board and the central view screen came to life.

A few moments later, the fearsome face of a Kajano appeared on the screen, his inhuman yellow eyes staring back at them.

"Thugal," Nicolla said evenly. "As you can see, our life systems have come back online. My crew is revived now and going through operational drills on board. This will include bringing our weapons capacitors online to test integrity. We will not be targeting your ships. Do you understand?"

The monstrous head nodded once and the outer mandibles of the mouth flexed in the approximation of speech.

"_Understand,"_ the ominous voice growled, and the image vanished.

She looked over at Hoskins and nodded. "Go ahead with the caps, Hoss, but don't even think about touching targeting."

Hoskins looked over at Dade for confirmation. The man nodded and turned back to Nicolla with an expectant expression.

She merely smiled and shrugged. "Surprise!"

"You weren't kidding!" Dade exclaimed suddenly. "You actually managed to get in with the Kajano? When did you – how did you manage that?"

Nicolla quickly filled them in on her encounter with the Kajano. When she was done, they all looked at her with new respect.

Dade stepped over to the coms board.

"Nathan, Ross," he called. "Get to the engineering compartment and give me a status on the motivators."

"On it," Ross's voice replied.

"Marton," Dade continued. "Take the helm. Prepare to increase speed."

"Aye sir," Marton nodded, sliding into the helm control couch.

"Command," Nathan called. "Engineering here. We are five by five. Full power is available."

"Can the motivators handle ninety five percent?" Dade asked.

"I don't see why not, boss, erm, sir," Nathon replied. "Go ahead and kick it in the ass. If we have a problem, I'll call."

"Thank you engineering," Dade disconnected the channel. He looked at Nicolla. "Would you inform our escort that we are pushing up the pace, please?"

Nicolla tapped her temple and smiled. "Already did."

"Right," Dade nodded. "Marton, take us to ninety five percent."

Marton grasped the engine controls. "Ninety five percent, aye sir."

"New projected arrival time in the Nimloth System," Jeeves reported dutifully. "Thirty six, point, two six hours."

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen," Dade nodded, his hands coming to clasp behind his back. He looked over at Nicolla. "Would you please take charge of our equipment? I need a full prep and inventory, complete load out on both ships. No point in wasting time, right?"

Nicolla grinned. "Absolutely."

She tapped the coms switch for general announcement. "All hands report to the docking bay. All hands, to the docking bay immediately."

Then she looked over at Jeeves and her grin remained. "Stay here and monitor sensors, please. I'm sure you'll be able to focus on them better than anyone else right now."

"Of course, Miss," Jeeves replied pleasantly.

"Don't encourage him," Marton cautioned from the pilot's station.

The last of the ordinance hand been loaded onto the drop ships, the field gear was stowed in the transports. All the extra equipment had been stowed in the ADV's and anything else, including most of the heavy ordinance for the two drop ships, was packed in the deployment pods. Nicolla looked around her at the tired, sweaty faces and smiled.

After twelve non-stop hours of unpacking and maneuvering equipment, they were done.

"Nice job everyone," she nodded. She looked over at the twins, Iesha and Mileasha. Of the entire crew, they were the least grimy, their tasks having been limited to the inspection, cleaning and preparation of all the small and medium level firearms that the team would be using.

"Everything ready?" she asked Iesha.

The two girls smiled and Mileasha tossed a large, holstered pistol to her. "Yes ma'am," she said. "Weapons checked, cleaned, locked, loaded, and stowed."

"And all personal packs have been prepped," Iesha added. "Demolitions, Recon, L.R.C.I., and Infantry Standard."

Nicolla half drew out the customized DE-10 pistol before strapping the holster to her body.

"Oh," Iesha added with a smirk. "The repeaters on the ADV's are working too."

"That's good to know," Prost muttered, mopping his brow. He turned and nodded to Nicolla. "I got yours prepped for close range support, with Slingers, and small ordinance tops. Beck's Suko is loaded with mostly heavy ordinance, LG's, Husters, and two long range Guillotines."

He nodded in appreciation. "You really know how to power shop, ma'am. I'll give you that much."

The last comment elicited some subdued smirks and chuckles from the group.

Nicolla smiled and nodded. "Grab some chow and get a shower, everyone. Then rest up a bit. We should be ready for planet fall in about sixteen hours."

Everyone dispersed and Nicolla was left alone in the hanger bay. She turned and looked at the two squat drop vessels, sitting like menacing wasps in their anchor bays.

If a ship's profile conveyed emotion, then the dark gray Suko's expression was one of grim determination.

Heavily armored and maneuverable despite their size, the Suko had been the backbone of small scale planetary deployment and retrieval for decades.

Four retractable armored pods contained the myriad of ordinance that the ships were capable of carrying, and beneath the nose was the thirty-five millimeter, high spawn plasma cannon.

The pilot – Nicolla – would sit in a central forward seat in the control pod while the navigator/weapons officer was seated in a rear seat, slightly off set to the right.

She moved slowly along the wide loading ramp, looking up at the Armored Deployment Vehicle resting on the ramp. Her hand brushed lightly along the underside of the fuselage as she continued her inspection.

Everything about the ship and the mission before her was coalescing in these two powerful vehicles and the ten people who had volunteered to accompany her.

She headed for the exit and turned once more to look at the two vessels. A small smile began pulling at her lips as she considered the profiles once more.

"We are ready."

Thirty-six hours later, the Arcum and its escort entered a new system.

As Nicolla manipulated the controls, she tried to recall the details Felix had recited several weeks prior.

"We need a system of seven stars," Nicolla thought aloud. "Set on an ascending line."

Behind her, Jeeves was also keying in the information, initiating searches for planets capable of supporting life.

"Seven stars and seven stones, and one white tree," Nicolla mused quietly.

"Pardon me, miss?" Jeeves asked. She turned to face him.

"Seven stars and seven stones and one white tree," she said again. This time everyone heard it.

"And that means?" Marton asked from the helm station.

"Its part of the description of the system, I think," Nicolla replied.

"You think?" Hoskins asked. "You mean, you don't know?"

"I know where it is," Nicolla shot back quickly, but there was doubt in her expression. "More or less."

"What?" Hoskins blurted out.

"I have the galactic grid coordinates and a general location!" Nicolla said defensively. "That should get us into the area. After that, it's just a matter of locating the proper solar system!"

"Was there any more to that poetic adage, Miss?" Jeeves inquired.

Nicolla nodded. "There was, I just never heard it."

The Synthoid considered as his fingers manipulated the sensors. "Very well. The initial requirements for locating the system in question are a series of seven primary stars, ostensibly in a configuration perpendicular to the galactic Y-axis, yes?"

"Perpendicular?" Hoskins asked.

"Yes," Nicolla nodded.

Jeeves continued feeding information into his terminal. "The descriptive aspect of the clue suggests a constellation in a vertical orientation. This system itself is comprised of seven primary class-A stars, each with numerous satellites. This suggests that your grid coordinates were accurate."

Nicolla stepped over to the control board and watched the Synthoid.

After several minutes, he stopped keying and looked up.

"It would appear that most of the planetary bodies in this system may be capable of supporting sentient carbon based life," he reported.

"May be?" Hoskins asked.

"We are not yet close enough to perform a detailed scan of the first system, so I must extrapolate a bit." Jeeves explained. "However, this system sits closest to the galactic grid coordinates Miss Sheil has provided. The system itself has numerous satellites that appear to be capable of supporting life."

"Are we close enough for a tech scan on those planets?" Marton suggested. "Scan for transmissions or something?"

Dade looked over at Marton, one eyebrow rising slowly.

"Well, if the planet we're aiming for has no tech," Marton explained. "Then we might be able to eliminate some of the choices if they are emitting transmissions of some kind. Any planet transmitting on any carrier band, no matter how primitive, is going to be too advanced to be our rock."

"Very astute, Master Beck," Jeeves nodded, incorporating that into his search program.

Dade looked over at Nicolla, who could only offer a subtle nod.

"Set the course," he ordered.

"All hands to Command Bridge," Jeeves' voice echoed through the ship.

Nicolla sat upright on her bunk, her heart hammering. The images of her dream still hovered at the edges of her consciousness and the voice echoed in her ears.

"Nicolla!"

"Felix," She murmured. She had been sinking into the dim red fog that had been the Geiasian matrix, its logical fingers clawing for her mind, trying to drag her back into its cacophony of logic.

The idea hit her like a roundhouse punch.

"That's it!" She cried and she bolted for the command deck.

Jeeves was in the middle of an explanation regarding the current system when Nicolla burst into the command deck.

"…total of twelve planets in the immediate area that could be candidates for exploration," Jeeves was saying. "Unfortunately, each of them will only allow limited scans. Some of these planets seem to be encircled by some form of dampening effect. The random sampling I am able to receive is indicative of fluctuations in a power field. I can only assume that the fields are implemented using a hub and emitter system, with some of the emitters gradually falling out of synch as time progresses."

"We don't need to scan each planet!" she blurted.

All eyes turned toward her.

"Miss?" Jeeves asked.

"All we need to do is listen," Nicolla said emphatically. She looked knowingly at Dade.

"Listen?" Iesha asked. She looked at her sister and then back at the others. "To what?"

"Dade," Nicolla explained quickly. "Remember when I showed up at the Poulas Whisper?"

"Yes," Dade nodded.

"I had locked away all the data I stole, using a code phrase because I couldn't let the network know I had saved that information, right?" Nicolla continued.

"I'm with you," Dade nodded again.

"I'm not," Hoskins muttered.

"That matrix was a sentient network set up to maintain the planet." Nicolla began to grin. "The network constantly broadcasts mental wavelengths just like any sentient brain. All those individual minds combining their abilities, working together to solve whatever equations come up."

"And if the system is sentient based, people like us can hear it," Dade was smiling as well.

"And since I was temporarily incorporated into that system, I'm familiar with the way the specific network sounds," Nicolla grinned. "I can let the mental transmission lead us right to the correct planet!"

"But you still got twelve planets to," Hosking cleared his throat. "Listen to. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"Tell me which three planets show the least degradation in those dampening fields," Nicolla suggested quickly. "I remember Felix saying that the planet we were on was forced to remain primitive."

"And a field like that would have to be putting out some big waves," Hoskins nodded.

Jeeves put the information on the main view screen. The twelve planets appeared in separate windows, each with a small summary as to their atmosphere, gravity and other pertinent facts.

Nicolla stepped forward, her eyes locked on the images. The first few were easy to dismiss.

"One and nine look like they have fully developed technologies, well beyond what we saw. See the glow of modern lighting in the area on the night side?" she commented with a dismissive gesture. Jeeves removed them from the list.

"Minas Tirith was by the sea," Nicolla went on. "Eight is a desert world."

The planet vanished from the display.

The next series took a bit longer to disseminate as Nicolla carefully studied the images on the screen.

"Get rid of two and five," Nicolla continued. "And six as well."

"Any particular reason?" Hoskins asked, fascinated by this unusual telepathic display.

Nicolla behaved as if she had not heard him, her eyes stayed locked on the display.

Three planets remained. Each of them unimpressive as far as worlds went. They were each pale blue orbs covered with soft, white clouds. At least half the total surface of those three planets was covered with water.

Nicolla's gaze fixed on each of these in turn as she studied them, not just for a familiar geological feature, but also for a familiar sensation. Her eyes were dull, focusing inward and unblinking.

"Lose three," she said in a subdued voice, as if her mind was far away.

Jeeves complied.

That left Nimloth Four and Nimloth Seven slowly turning on the display board. Both were rated primitive on the technology scale, both had the correct atmosphere and life sensor readings. Both were more than fifty percent covered in water.

Two identical planets.

"Well?" Hoskins asked. He had a bemused expression on his face, as if he really didn't believe that Nicolla could do what she was proposing. The existence of telepathic individuals was a simple fact, and their various innate abilities were well documented within the confederation, but this exercise bordered on the mystic, which was something the big soldier had never subscribed to. He glanced over at Dade, a teller in his own right, and saw some of his own skepticism on the ship commander's face.

"Nicky?" Dade asked as he stepped forward.

Hoskins mirrored his movement and the two men stepped to either side of the woman, their curiosity piqued.

"Nick?" Hoskins asked as he studied her face.

Her expression was neutral and her eyes glazed over as she absorbed whatever sensations she was focusing on.

"Nicky?" Dade asked a touch more loudly.

A few moments more and the expressions of bemused curiosity began to morph into something more akin to concern.

"Nicky!" Dade said firmly. "Nicolla, can you hear me?"

A soft breath issued from the woman's lips and her eyes blinked once.

"I hear you just fine," Nicolla replied and her body suddenly came back to life.

She pointed at the screen, indicating the seventh planet in the system.

"That one," she said confidently. "That's our target."

Jeeves nodded. "Shall I lay in a course, Master Billans?"

Dade nodded. "Speed course, please."

"Very well," Jeeves keyed information on his panel. "Master Beck. Please set your course, two, seven, one, by one, four, nine – full power to drives."

"Yes sir," Marton smiled as he pushed the drive levers to full and made the adjustments to the controls.

They felt the vessel shudder slightly beneath their feet and the shift in their stomachs that told them the ship was turning.

"We are turning and burning," Marton confirmed.

"Commence final prep and assembly," Dade clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the flight timer. "Final vehicle and weapons inspection in six hours. Grab a hot meal and a shower and get ready to deploy, people." He looked at Jeeves. "You have the bridge?"

"Of course, sir," Jeeves nodded.

The small mess hall was Spartan, but functional, with metallic benches and tables stretched end to end across the narrow compartment. On the one wall was the massive food processing center. Each member grabbed a tray and procured their meals from the various dispensers. With the food came the usual grumbles about the consistency and taste, or lack thereof, of the various planetary delicacies offered by the system.

Like all military or former military vehicles, the food dispenser was not programmed for gourmet delicacies, but rather, it provided the required nutritional staples that the hard life of soldiering required.

Also, because space was limited on a vessel of this style, the mess hall served as a meeting room for the ships officers.

Iesha sat down, holding up a small square cake of what appears to be dark brown nutty bread.

"What is this supposed to be?" she inquired as her sister and several others slid into the benches on either side of the table.

Her sister leaned over and looked at the item for a moment.

"Sarian Nut Cake, I think" she said. Then she looked at Nicolla and a smile touched the corner of her mouth. "Or cut moorf dung."

Iesha paused with the confection half way to her mouth. She grimaced and let the bread fall back to the tray while she gave her sister a frown. "Thanks."

Mileasha smiled more broadly and stole the bread from her sisters' tray, taking an emphatic bite.

"So," Roscoe asked casually, as he spooned a small pile of noodles into his mouth. He looked at Nicolla questioningly. "What can we expect planet side?"

Nicolla shrugged. "Environmentally, it will be a typical Class-A planet. Oxygen/Nitrogen atmosphere. Various flora and fauna, and primitive life all around."

"Sentient life?" Roscoe pressed.

Nicolla nodded. "Sapien at basic tech level."

"So," Prost chuckled. "Swords, knives and primitive projectile weapons? Piece of cake."

Nicolla shrugged. "The dominant sapien forms are peaceful enough, for the most part. The leaders I've met, at least, are civilized. The dominant non-saps, on the other hand?" she shrugged. "Let's just say we need to shoot first and ask later."

"Sounds easy enough," Hoskins commented, stifling a burp. "So why did you load out so much heavy hardware and extra equipment? You have enough ordinance for six Suko's and enough weapons, ammunition and field gear for a hundred people."

Nicolla fixed him with a stare. "Because too much is never enough, big boy," she teased. "And when I shop, I try to buy by the crate load. The one thing that sticks in the craw of any off world operation is a lack of spare parts, right? I just sort of made sure we don't have that problem."

"Yeah, for the next ten years," Marton snorted.

That illicted laughs from the assembled members.

"Seriously," Mileasha asked. "Why are we going in so heavy? We barely have room in the ADV's to squeeze the team in with all of the extra equipment we're bringing? Never mind the deployment packages we have set up on the ship here. You really, and I mean really, cleaned Gaw out."

Nicolla nodded. "I just have a feeling that we're going to be very busy after we arrive and I want to make sure we have enough to cover anything that comes along."

"We have enough firepower for a small war," Marton chuckled. "If we don't use them, at least we can have a garage sale."

"So," Dorn said, ignoring Marton. "We're doing more than a simple grab and hold here?" He finished cleaning his fingernails with his combat knife and blew the errant dirt off his skin. "Are we just dropping planet side and setting up shop, or are we planning on taking something a bit more," his cool eyes fixed on her. "Structured?"

"We aren't going in to overthrow the locals, if that's what you're asking," Nicolla shot back. "The ones I have met have been very hospitable, and I wouldn't want to change that. At most, we may provide some back up for them. At the least, it will help guarantee our safety in the field, okay?"

Dorn's knife slid into its sheath. "Just making sure, that's all."

"Okay then," Nicolla rose. She looked around the room, fixing each of them with a hard edged stare. "Before we go any further, I think there is something else you all need to know."

All eyes turned to fix on Nicolla.

"When I set this thing up, I told Marcolous Gaw that it was to scout out G-tech," Nicolla confessed.

"But that isn't the real reason," Dade added with a nod.

"Right," Nicolla replied.

"Then what is the real reason?" Prost asked, looking up from his food.

"My showing up at Rinos Drift offered me the opportunity to get a team together and set up a rescue mission, plain and simple" Nicolla admitted. "Is there G-Tech down there? Yes there is. I didn't lie about that, but I'm not here for it or to help Gaw get his fingers on it. I am here to rescue the rest of my team and that's it."

Her eyes studied the faces gazing at her.

"When we ended up here, it was my team and about fifty refugees. They are the reason I set this up. I needed a ship large enough to transport the refugee's home, and I needed equipment to reinforce the team down there protecting them."

No one spoke for a long moment.

Dade finally nodded. "So, there it is people. Does anyone have a problem with this?"

Hoskins chuckled quietly. "Damn girl, you are one fast talking bitch you know that?"

"Excuse me," Dorn raised his hand slowly. "While I can understand and even appreciate these lofty sentiments, I think it's only fair for me to point out that I have my own motivations for being here, and that is currency. I'm not interested in rescuing refugees or any such nonsense. I'm just a man who found out I was good at killing. I'm not going to put my hide on the line for some 'gooder' desire to 'do the right thing'."

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the bulkhead. "I get paid for shit like this, and that's what I'm expecting here. If you're saying that sentiment is the only currency you have, then you can't afford me."

"Dorn," Prost growled and fixed him with a dark stare.

"That's how I do business," Dorn replied with a shrug. Then he looked back at Nicolla. "And this is a business deal, after all, right?"

Nicolla held his stare with a cold one of her own. "Yes it is, I suppose."

"Then, at present, I'm expecting a monetary cut of something that you have no intention of exploiting," Dorn continued. "Sounds like I'll be hanging out up here while you all go planet side, unless?" He shrugged again.

"What do you want?" Dade asked a bit sharply.

Dorn smiled slightly. "What does any good merc want, sir? I need to plan for my retirement, so," he broke off, musing. "Non combat is a thousand per day. If we wind up in the fight and I need to draw old reliable here," he patted an elongated case that rested against the wall next to him. "The pay triples. Five thousand credit retainer for my services, balance to be paid in full upon completion."

Nicolla felt her jaw drop slightly in surprise and even Dade was shocked.

"You must be sucking Rhein Root if you think we're going to pay you that kind of cash!" Hoskins exploded.

"I'm not the one who set out under false pretenses," Dorn shrugged. "Take it or leave it."

Nicolla considered for a moment.

"You know we don't have five grand here with us," she said, staring at him. "So you can forget the retainer."

Dorn smiled slightly.

Nicolla held his gaze, measuring the man behind the cool stare.

"I can guarantee seventy-five, paid out as a bonus plus your rates_ after_ we retrieve my team and pull the refugees out," she said simply. "Otherwise, stay up here and walk circles around the rec deck. Because if this mission goes bust, there's no way you could fly this tub back home by yourself."

Dorn's eyebrows rose.

"Offer reverts in ten seconds," Nicolla finished.

"Ten thousand," Dorn countered.

"Five seconds," Nicolla replied, crossing her arms.

Dorn hesitated.

"Time's up," Nicolla finished. "Fuck you."

"You are dismissed, trooper," Dade said with an air of menace.

Dorn, his plan in ruins, looked at the others, feeling the room darken with the gazes he received. He decided that arguing his position any further would not be wise and collected his case before leaving the mess hall.

"Well," Iesha said as she stirred her food with her fork. "That was entertaining."

"What's the plan, Nicky?" Hoskins asked.

"There is one location that I want to stage from," Nicolla explained. "It isn't central, but it is easy to find from the air. A place called Minas Tirith."

"Fortified?" Dade asked.

Nicolla nodded, stepping over to an input panel. She traced a finger along the surface and quickly drew a rough sketch of the mountainside and the seven level ring of the city.

"From everything I saw the first time there, it's the most fortified location on the planet," she said. "This upper shelf, extends out from the main palace far enough to be used as a landing platform, giving us a protected site several thousand feet from the plains." She turned back to the others. "Nothing on that planet, aside from featherwings, can hope to get up to mess with our stuff there."

"What about the locals?" Hoskins asked.

Nicolla smiled. "Well, we got in well with the locals when we arrived. The leader's name is Aragorn, and he seems to be the man in charge of everything from one end of the continent to the other, more or less."

With that, Nicolla launched into a detailed briefing of her time at Minas Tirith and Middle Earth, the people, the architecture, the culture – as well as she understood it and the numerous other facets as she had experienced them.

"It actually sounds like an interesting place," Mileasha commented with a smile. "I may want to stick around afterwards."

Her sister nudged her and smiled. "Yeah, right."

They were about to continue when Jeeves's voice echoed over the speakers.

"Command staff to the bridge, please."

Several minutes later, Hoskins, Nicolla, Dade, Marton, and Nathan stood on the command deck, looking at the view screen.

"We seem to have a problem," Marton muttered.

On the screen before them was the slowly rotating world of Nimloth Seven. It wasn't the beauty of the blue/green world that held their attention, but rather, the six large white crystalline structures that orbited the planet.

"Well, there's something you don't see every day," Hoskins added.

"What are those?" Dade asked, leaning against the rail.

Jeeves was working his controls. "They appear to be orbital stations."

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Marton shot back. "I think we gathered that much."

Jeeves didn't look up at him from the panel. "Yes, Master Beck. What you may not have gathered, however, is that those six stations seem to be the source of the field we detected with our long range sensors."

He magnified the image, bringing one of the white objects into closer, sharper focus.

The station itself was a long, needle like spire, pointed like a dart at the planet below. At the large end of the station, the base widened and flattened out with half a dozen large flat protuberances extending out almost as far as the station itself was long.

Dade's eyebrows rose and then looked inquisitively at Nicolla. She offered a shrug.

"This configuration is very similar to an emitter array," Jeeves pointed to the six panels. "These are spaced concentrically around the base of the station, ostensibly near the power hub."

Nicolla wasn't looking at the panels, but rather at the four pronged dagger pointed at the planet. The shape was identical to one she had seen on the surface.

"Isengard," she murmered.

"Pardon?" Jeeves asked.

Nicolla was remembering her flyby of the lone fortress in northern Rohan, how the needle shaped structure rose from the center of what Felix had suspected was an impact crater. The dimensions of the station before her and the structure she remembered were virtually the same.

"Launch a sensor probe," Dade ordered. "Let's get a closer look at one of those stations."

Hoskins moved to a secondary weapons panel and brought one of the probes online. His finger paused above the 'commit' button.

"Our friends aren't going to get skittish about this, right?" He asked with just a hint of nervousness.

Nicolla smiled. "I informed them," she tapped a finger against her temple. "They know everything we do."

Marton suddenly winced uncomfortably and Nicolla felt the emotion as a gentle wave.

"Everything?" He asked.

"Okay, almost everything," Nicolla qualified with a smile.

Hoskins chuckled and pressed the switch.

The small cylindrical probe detached from the cluster pack beneath the Arcum and a split second later, its thruster fired, propelling it towards a planetary orbit.

As it left their sight, they saw the instrumentation packs deploying.

"Five minutes, forty seconds," Hoskins reported. "Telemetry looks good."

The view screen switched to a forward camera view as the probe continued towards the planet, the blue white surface expanding to fill the screen.

"Alright," Dade nodded. "Switch to,"

He stopped as the image on the screen fuzzed out and then vanished in a wall of static.

He looked over at Hoskins who merely raised his hands helplessly. "Lost it. All systems offline."

The screen switched back to its original view just in time for them to see the soft orange glow as the probe burnt up in the atmosphere.

"Well," Marton sighed. "That's damn inconvenient."

"Give me another one," Dade ordered.

Hoskins programmed the controls and released a second probe along the same line as the first.

Dade looked towards Jeeves. "Monitor the probe."

"Yes sir," Jeeves replied.

At the same moment as its predecessor, the probe died.

Jeeves's refined features creased into a frown. "Interesting."

He looked up at Dade. "The probe's power systems were negated," he explained.

"Negated?" Hoskins asked.

"It wasn't instantaneous," Jeeves continued. He put the results of his scan on the main screen. The image showed readouts of all the probes systems delineated by a series of bar graphs.

"As you can see," Jeeves explained. "The probe was functioning normally. Flight trajectory and tracking all functioning within normal parameters, and then, at five minutes and forty-eight seconds," he slowed the readout and the watched as every system dropped quickly to zero before the image blinked out.

"The probe was drained of all power," Jeeves explained as he backed up the last few frames of the readout. "It was not a mechanical failure. Something simply negated the power system."

"What could do something like that?" Marton asked.

"I believe the hypothetical term currently use in scientific circles, is Null Field," Jeeves replied.

Dade let a low whistle escape his lips.

"So," Nathon asked. He had been leaning casually against the entrance arch bulkhead. "I can assume that any vehicle attempting to land on the surface gets zapped?"

"Yep," Nicolla's brows furrowed in thought.

"Good thing I'm only a driver," Nathon sighed.

Dade waived the man's comment away. "Well, I need options here."

When silence was the only response, he looked around.

"Anyone?"

"Miss Sheil?" Jeeves asked. "You told me that your companions were able to get the power restored on your vessel prior to your crash landing on the surface, yes?"

Nicolla nodded.

"What was your altitude when power was restored?" Jeeves continued.

Nicolla considered. "Somewhere under forty thousand feet?"

Jeeves nodded. "So, all we need to do is plot a reentry course with an equatorial glide path that will compensate for a loss of power from the edge of this null field to approximately forty thousand feet from the planet's surface."

"Oh, is that all?" Hoskins asked sarcastically. "Damn, I thought this was going to be complicated."

Jeeves simply looked up and let his hands clasp behind his back. Is expression was one of polite expectation.

"Well?" Dade asked.

Marton smiled knowingly "He's formulating."

"Miss Sheil," Jeeves continued. "If you could, please describe, with as much detail as possible, the events leading up to your crash on – we shall assume – Nimloth Seven." He indicated the planet rotating on their view screen.

With that, Nicolla launched into a detailed explanation of their evacuation mission on the island of Martius in the Tar-Antilles System and their subsequent arrival over Nimloth, leading up to their crash landing just beyond the city of Osgiliath.

Jeeves's eyes flicked back and forth as he absorbed the details of her narration, asking her to expound on various technical details of the Phoenix Fire and how it behaved once the strange storm had swallowed them up.

When she finished, no one spoke for several moments. Jeeves was completely motionless as his artificial brain processed the information. He seemed more like a lifeless automaton than a person now.

Nathan pursed his lips as he considered her tale, and Marton turned from the pilot station to look at Synthoid.

"What's on your mind, old buddy?" he asked.

The Android blinked and straightened slightly, coming back from his internal calculations.

"If I understand everything correctly," he said. "Then we have three courses of action available to us."

"And they are?" Dade asked.

The Synthoid's hands remained in place, comfortably at the small of his back as he stepped down from the console and moved to the forward view screen.

"First, we can attempt to disable some or all of these satellites in the hopes that a decrease in efficiency will allow our ships to penetrate the atmosphere and make a relatively normal landing on the surface. Our current load out makes the total removal of all satellites impossible, but we might remove one or two," He explained. "Second, we may attempt an orbital reentry from the outer edge of the null field dead stick, if you will pardon the term, until we are beneath the field effects, where we would then attempt restart of systems and make an otherwise normal landing on surface."

"You want to do an orbital insertion from that high up?" Nathon asked in amazement. He jumped up and indicated one of the stations hovering near the equator. How do we get around that without any flight controls? Have you popped a positron or something?"

Dade held up a hand, silencing Nathon's protest. "What's the third option, Jeeves?"

At that, the Synthoid elicited a very human sigh that seemed almost resigned. "We return to Rinos Drift, sir."

"Well, scratch option three," Hoskins said just loud enough for everyone else to hear.

"Jeeves?" Marton shrugged. "Has there been any record of any ship successfully executing a high orbit insertion with the variables we got here?"

"None that I am aware of, Master Beck," Jeeves replied. "As far as I am aware, should we attempt it and succeed, we would be the first."

Marton's eyebrows rose in consideration and a small smile appeared. "Really?"

Instantly, Nicolla sensed the desire welling up in the young pilot's mind and overriding his earlier caution. She smiled.

"What do we have in the way of programmable telemetry, if we were to try it?" she asked.

"Not very much, Miss," Jeeves replied. "Nothing as far as occupied flight vehicles are concerned, but I do have several historical meteor insertions on record."

"Great," Nathon commented. "If we're a chunk of space junk."

"I believe I could modify the trajectory information of some of those random strikes to facilitate a proper orbital insertion from the excessive distance," Jeeves countered patiently. "Then the only things to consider are the systems issue and the station that currently rests in our presumed flight path."

"Systems issue?" Dade asked.

Jeeves nodded. "Miss Sheil recounted that her vessel's operational systems were incapacitated by a massive electromagnetic pulse, which disrupted the programs of the ships computer. Unless we want to risk the same thing happening to us, we must have a way to protect and then reinitialize the operating systems of our vessels once we reach the other side of the field."

"The chemical batteries," Marton snapped his fingers. He pointed at Nicolla. "You said your captain got your ship restarted by rewiring in the emergency power cells into the computer coil!"

"Precisely," Jeeves nodded. "I believe we can adapt Master Chief Darquefyre's solution in a more productive manor by utilizing the protected core of a data pad and some old fashioned chemical cells."

Nathon nodded. "We wipe the data pads and load a backup of the Suko operating system, then hook up a kill switch and wire it to a couple of chemical cell batteries. If the ships don't reboot automatically, we reload and restart that way."

"Precisely," Jeeves replied. "The question then becomes, can this maneuver be accomplished from an altitude under forty thousand feet before we crash into the ground?"

"And the answer?" Dade asked.

Jeeves seemed to study Marton and Nicolla as if considering. Finally he nodded.

"I believe we could accomplish the atmospheric maneuvers, yes sir. My primary concern is the insertion." His pale eyes fell again on the crystalline spike hovering over the planet.

"High orbit insertions are tricky," Nicolla said. "One wrong calculation," she shrugged.

"Crispy Biscuit," Hoskins finished for her.

"Okay," Marton shrugged. "Then let's let Mister Positron, there, do the math, and the rest will be on us."

"I cannot help but assume that you derive some unusual form of satisfaction from your childish pronouncements" Jeeves said dryly.

"And you'd be spot on, old boy," Marton grinned, imitating the synthoid's crisp accent.

"Very well," Dade said. "Let's figure this out."

On the outside, the plan seemed simple enough. The calculations for the reentry would be provided by Jeeves. The Arcums rail guns would be programmed for a long range burst designed to knock one of the orbital stations from its orbit, hopefully sending it plummeting into the ocean far below. At the same time, their ships, including the three Kajano frigates, would make a run up towards the planet, matching its rotational speed before the null field shut down their systems. From that point, the passengers of the ships would simply have to wait until the effects of the field dissipated and they would restart their ships as they free fell through the atmosphere. If everything went well, they would find themselves gliding down at a leisurely pace with plenty of time to use the forced air of their fall to restart their engines and resume normal flight.

The operating system of the Suko Drop ships were copied and placed on non corruptible data coils, each wired to a chemical cell battery and placed in the flight cabin of the ships. If the drop ships failed to reinitialize, they would simply hit a switch and reboot from the protected drives.

Nicolla passed the plan along to Thugal, who nodded his understanding. Despite the mass of his vessels, he assured her that his ships could accomplish the maneuver easily.

While the others went about their preparations, Nicolla spent hours watching the world spinning lazily below them, trying to find the distinctive feature that was Minas Tirith.

She had several factors to aid her. She knew the city face north from the ocean. She knew a river ran just west of it. She knew that a second range of mountains could be seen north of the citadel. And she knew the concentric construction of the city would be very distinct when viewed from above.

Unfortunately, the mapping system was useless due to the null field surrounding Nimloth, so she was left with physically scanning the planet by sight, using the powerful observation lenses.

After seven hours of gazing at the screen she finally glimpsed something through a layer of thin clouds.

Even as she zoomed in, thicker condensation drifted in to obscure her view.

"Come on!" she shouted at the monitor in frustration. She transferred the image to the central view screen and stood up, pacing away as she tried to keep her temper in check.

"You have something?" Hoskins asked from the tactical console.

"I might," Nicolla paced angrily. "If the damned clouds would get out of my way for ten fucking seconds!"

"Easy girl," Hoskins smiled.

Even as she said it, the thick layer of cloud seemed to thin and fade slowly away, as if reluctant to reveal what lay beneath.

Nicolla froze, her eyes wide with expectation as her instincts screamed for confirmation.

"Looks like you're going to get your wish," Hoskins smiled. His expression faded when he saw the almost predatory look in Nicolla's green eyes.

"Come on," she whispered. "Just get out of my way for a few moments."

The clouds faded and slowly, almost teasingly, the distinct circular shape protruding from the side of the cliff emerged.

"That's it!" Nicolla screamed in triumph, pointing at the long protrusion of rock separating the two sides of the city. She spun towards Jeeves.

"That's our target! Plan the insertion with that location as our final termination point!"

"Yes miss," Jeeves replied.

"You had to use the word, 'termination'?" Hoskins asked.

Nicolla didn't hear him as she rushed out of the command center. "Get everything ready!"

The hanger deck of the Arcum was, once again, a hive of activity as the drop ships received their final preparations.

Each of the armored deployment vehicles could carry ten men, plus the driver, a sensors operator and the associated combat kits. As a result, one of the A.D.V.'s was packed with extra weapons, ammunition and equipment for their deployment while the second was prepped to carry the team and the rest of the gear to the surface.

The ADV for the team backed onto the ramp of Nicolla's ship, while the one with all their equipment was parked on the ramp of Marton's vessel.

"You're going to be heavy," Nicolla commented as she watched the team assembling.

Marton nodded.

"Grab your gear!" Hoskins' voice boomed through the hanger. He was already loaded up, one of the MP-9 rifles held casually in one hand. "Two minutes!"

The team assembled, each one dressed in the same dark colored combat fatigues and armored vests.

The kits varied slightly by designation.

The twin demolitions experts, Iesha and Mileasha, had their standard back packs, plus several hip packs containing the tools of their trade.

Jeeves was also adorned in the standard flight gear with a basic pack, though he had substituted the normal food stores for additional analytical components. He also had a standard flight bag with his gear and flight helmet. He looked decidedly uncomfortable in the uncharacteristic attire, his pale skin seemed even more pallid in contrast with his deep gray colored clothing.

Marton and Nicolla had flight gear in addition to their regular equipment and Nicolla also had a sniper pack affixed beneath the main backpack, and one of the new AS-2G rifles hanging from a storage sling. At her hip was the DE-10 Pistol and she, Iesha, and Marton also held flight helmets casually in one hand.

The other two snipers, Prost and Dorn had similar setups, with Prost also carrying one of the new AS-2G's and sniper pack attached.

The rest of the team shared the additional ammunition and supplies between them in conjunction with their standard deployment kits.

The standard deployment kit was a basic pack, loaded with everything it was thought a soldier would require in the field. It contained spare ammunition, a basic field medical kit, tent, poncho, small reheater for warmth or cooking and the premixed rations packs.

Each basic kit also had several clips that could hold the various specialty modules. This modular set up allowed for multiple configurations with relative ease. An individual simply grabbed the associated module and snapped it to the pack before deployment.

All of the members lined up on a ready line with the exception of Gillian Dorn. He stood near the hanger entrance, his pack in his hand and his own sniper rifle slung casually over one shoulder.

"What's the call, Nicky?" Dade asked, indicating the errant figure.

Nicolla looked at him and shrugged.

"You're play, Dorn," she said. "You want in, or not?"

Dorn nodded. "I'll take your offer," he said.

Nicolla frowned. "What offer was that?"

Gillian looked at her, and his gaze darkened somewhat. "The offer of seventy-five hundred after we finish."

"Oh," Nicolla nodded. Then she fixed him with a hard stare. "That offer expired when we kicked you out of the mess hall." She folded her arms across her chest and gave him a scornful look. "No deals. You're in or out. Make your mind up now, because we're leaving. We find something, you'll get a cut, if we don't, then I guess you'll just have to work that much longer towards your retirement."

Dorn's mouth fell open and he looked as if he might press the argument, but Hoskins snapped him out of his momentary tantrum.

"Load up!"

"Later, Dorn," Nicolla stepped away from the man and gave Jeeves a pat on the belly. "Come on, navigator."

The two turned and strode towards the Suko.

Marton looked down at Iesha, smiling. "Ready for the ride, sweetheart?"

Mileasha's pale aqua eyes bored into his. "Don't fuck this up, hot shot. You hurt my sister and I will have to kill you."

She turned and headed towards her ship as Nathon emerged from the loaded ADV.

"You're buttoned up and ready to blast," he patted Marton on the shoulder. "Don't bust up my ride."

Marton was staring after Mileasha. "She's hot for me," he said, smiling.

Nathon grinned and looked at the blonde woman as she did her inspection walk.

"Nah," he said. "That's the other one." He jerked a thumb towards Iesha, standing near the second ship. "Mil's the one that will kill you."

"What a way to go," Marton sighed. He patted Nathon's shoulder. "See you planet side."

Nathon nodded and departed, jogging to the second vehicle.

Hoskins was moving down the center of the cramped vehicle, double checking restraints and stowed equipment as the rest of the team settled into their seats.

"Hook it up! Hook it up, people!" Hoskins ordered. "Get settled!"

Nathon ducked in and took the seat beside the egress hatch, pulling the heavy shoulder restraint down against his chest.

"Xings?" Hoskins asked.

The young driver gave a thumbs up. "Good to go, Sarge!"

Hoskins nodded and continued back, shouting a mix of encouragement and insult until everyone was settled.

He paused when he came to Gillian, sitting in the second to last seat, a scowl on his face.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hoskins asked.

Dorn matched Hoskin's dark look. "Looks like I'm doing the same thing you are. You think I want to be stuck up here in a tin can while you get to breathe real air?"

Hoskins smiled slightly and gave the man a pat on the shoulder. "Good to have you with us." Then he looked forward as he began settling into his own seat.

"Okay, Ross!" He shouted. "Load us up!"

The motivators of the ADV hummed and the big vehicle backed smoothly up the loading ramp of the Suko.

A green light appeared on Dade's control monitor at the rear of the passenger compartment.

"Nicky," he said over his com. "We're locked in."

Nicolla and Jeeves settled in their seats in the control module. She nodded and tapped her com.

"Understood." She leaned back and called over her shoulder. "Close us up."

"Yes, Miss," Jeeves replied easily. He flipped a switch and the whine of hydraulics was heard as the ADV was lifted into the cargo hold. The ship jolted slightly.

"Loading ramp secured, Miss," Jeeves reported. "Internal locks set, load secure."

Nicolla ran her hands across control panels, activating instruments as she went. The whine of power systems filled the cockpit. She paused as she noted the new, red button in a crudely affixed box, nestled near her left leg, just ahead and below the throttle.

"Alright." Nicolla keyed for engine prestart. "Let's get the show on the road. You tied into the Arcum's main computer?"

"Yes, Miss." Jeeves replied. "Coordinates keyed in and we are moving to our assigned drop zone."

"What about the deployment drones?" Nicolla asked looking across the hanger to the four small, unmanned vessels resting near the secondary airlocks.

"Also loaded with the spare provisions discovered in storage aboard the ship," Jeeves reported. "Provided we can get a signal to the Arcum, we may be able to call for additional relief supplies."

The engines of the Arcum glowed to life as the ship began a lazy turn, coasting to a point near the equator of the planet. The three Kajano vessels followed, taking up a position several thousand kliks away from the edge of the null field.

"Bring the rail guns online," Nicolla ordered. "And input the firing sequences."

"Rail guns online," Jeeves replied. "And firing sequence one, is entered. Awaiting your command, Miss."

Nicolla shook her head, smiling. "Do you have to keep calling me that?"

"What, Miss?" Jeeves asked.

Nicolla shook her head again, smiling. Now was not the time for frivolous conversation. "Never mind, we'll talk later."

Jeeves sounded somewhat confused. "Very good, miss."

Two massive grapples affixed themselves to the ships and lifted them from the deck.

"Stowing landing skids," Nicolla reported. "Stand by for airlock interface."

She looked over at the other vessel.

"You two ready over there?" she called.

"Ready, willing and very able," Marton replied. "Awaiting your order."

The two drop ships lowered into the airlock, coming to rest on retractable stabilizers.

Nicolla looked up as the inner hatch sealed above them.

"Hatch secure," she reported. "Depressurizing. Give me a final cross check, please?"

From his seat, Dade nodded. "All secure below, Nicky. We're all yours."

"Don't fuck up!" R.C. shouted.

"Why does everyone think we're going to mess this up?" Marton asked casually.

Iesha smiled. "Because they know you."

Two long hatches slid open on the bottom of the frigate and the two drop ships emerged, turning lazily to orient themselves on the planet.

The Arcum floated away, continuing on its preprogrammed course nearest to one of the massive crystalline satellites.

"Everyone ready?" Nicolla called over the open frequency.

"Looking good here," Marton replied easily.

"Thugal?" Nicolla called again.

There was no response over the air, but Nicolla got the sensation from the mind of the alien that his ships were also ready to execute the plan.

Nicolla did a final inspection of her instruments and then took a deep breath.

"Arcum is on station, miss," Jeeves reported. "At your convenience?"

"Suko Two, bring drive plants online and prepare for insertion," Nicolla called as she brought her own engines up to power. "Thugal, you may begin you run."

The large dark Frigates turned and began moving, accelerating towards the planet. Because of their greater mass, they needed additional time to reach a velocity that would allow them to enter the atmosphere of the planet without burning up.

"Jeeves?" Nicolla asked. She flipped a switch, patching him into the communication network. "On your call."

"Thirty seconds, miss," Jeeves reported as he watched the approaching frigates. "Standby."

The three frigates closed on them with uncomfortable speed, even though Nicolla knew they would not hit, the image was a bit disconcerting.

"Fifteen seconds," Jeeves said calmly.

She snapped here eyes away from the massive ships and focused forward, calming her nerves. Her eyes settled on the planet ahead.

"Engage engines in ten…nine…eight…" Jeeves began counting back the final seconds.

Somewhere down there, Tyrion and the others were waiting. Her heart was pounding in her chest even as she thought about him.

"Seven…six…five…"

When this little adventure was over, she was going to make sure that he knew how she felt. She was tired of being afraid, tired of keeping her feelings for him in check, all because of some misguided regulations left over from years gone by.

"Four…three…"

She would tell him everything the moment she saw him, and damn the possible consequences."

"Two…one…Engage engines, full thrust," Jeeves finished.

Nicolla jammed the throttle to full.

The two gray ships vaulted forward on a course that would bring them into formation with the other three vessels.

"Stand by for boosters," Jeeves continued.

The massive black shapes of the frigates passed them as they turned on the course laid out by the Synthoid.

"Engage boosters in three…two…one…engage," Jeeves continued.

Nicolla was pinned in her seat as the ships roared forward, closing the distance and edging out in front of the frigates.

"We are at speed and in formation, course locked in." Jeeves said dutifully. There was a pause as he manipulated controls. "We have reached optimal re-entry speed relative to planetary rotation. Well done, miss."

"Time till shutdown?" Nicolla asked.

"Two minutes, nine seconds," Jeeves answered.

"Ready for firing sequence," Nicolla's eyes fixed on the massive white station approaching them.

"At your command, miss."

"Yeah," Marton suddenly called over to them. "I've been meaning to ask you about that. You sure we won't get splattered?"

"Of course," Jeeves responded.

"It's just that," Marton continued. "Well, you are firing directly into our flight path, you know?"

Jeeves smiled. "I would never do anything to harm an organic, such as yourself, Master Beck. Especially one who has shown me as much respect as you have, sir."

"That had a hint of sarcasm to it, old buddy," Marton retorted. "Watch it."

Jeeves ignored him and focused on the control board before him. "Stand by for final course lockout. Ten seconds."

Nicolla let her grip on the flight controls loosen.

"And," Jeeves began. "Release all controls, activating automatic guidance system now."

Nicolla let her hands come free of the control yolk and throttle as the ship gave a gentle shudder. The maneuvering jets fired and the ship became perfectly steady and level.

Nicolla looked over at Marton's ship, coasting alongside. On the monitor she saw the three Kajano frigates also locked in their ballistic course towards the surface. Ahead and just above was the massive crystalline white structure of the satellite. It seemed to glow with internal power, its needle spires pointed like blades at the surface below.

"When ever you're ready," Nicolla said.

"Accessing Arcum central computer," Jeeves reported. Then a few moments later, "System is available."

"Do it," Nicolla instinctively settled a little deeper into her pilots couch and tightened her restraints.

"Targeting sequence one initiated," Jeeves replied. "Rail guns firing."

There was a short pause "Sequence two initiated. Firing."

"Brace yourselves!" Nicolla called over the com. At the same moment, the glow of the panels before her flickered and faded. The whine of the engines cut off and they were dead in space, hurtling towards a massive crystalline structure at more than twenty thousand miles per hour. If they managed to get past that, then there was only the atmosphere of the world beyond to slow them down.

She instinctively checked several instruments and felt the panic rise within here despite knowing what was to come. The sudden isolation came down around her like a suffocating cloud.

"Well, I guess that's it," she said. "You alright back there?"

There was no answer.

Dread clutched at her. She turned her head to look behind at her companion. "Jeeves?"

He sat motionless, his eyes focused straight ahead but seeing nothing.

Apparently the null field affected his power systems as well.

"Damn," she muttered.

There was a flash from outside the ship and Nicolla saw tracers of silver light rip into the massive station. Chunks of clear white crystal burst from the superstructure as the high speed projectiles riddled the satellite.

Even as the Geiasan object received damage, it immediately began to repair itself. Shards of crystal growing back to fill gaping holes where the rail guns of the distant frigate had struck.

A second, even longer tracery of impacts scored their way across the center of the structure and then a third one walked the length, spitting up debris, dust and creating secondary eruptions of vented atmosphere as it traveled lengthwise down the long axis of the superstructure. The massive station began to slowly move out of position.

"Come on!" Nicolla gritted her teeth. "Come on! Break up! Break up!"

There was a tremendous flash and the station snapped in two, the forward spire tumbling away towards the planet below.

Towards them!

"Oh shit!" Nicolla gasped as the megaton structure spun in slow, lazy arcs.

A quick glance to the side and she saw Marton with what had to be a similar expression to her own, wrestling with controls that would not respond.

She saw Iesha's mouth open in a scream.

Then the flotsam was past them, arcing over their heads, meters from her ship as it continued on a course that would take it towards one of the massive blue/green oceans below.

Smaller pieces of debris peppered her canopy like rain before it, too was past them.

Nicolla took a deep breath and tried to calm her thumping heart. Beneath her, in the cargo hold, she could feel the mixture of dread and anticipation emanating from the sealed vehicle. The minds of every member of her team were racing, even as they tried to invoke their own various methods of self sedation.

Suddenly, she felt a single mind, quiet and peaceful, lost in the warmth of slumber.

Nicolla suppressed a short laugh and shook her head. "Hoss, you are amazing."

She let herself focus on the big man's mind, letting the sense of calm bolster her own efforts to relax.

She felt her pulse slowing to something more resembling normal and felt her lids growing heavy.

She resisted the urge to drift to sleep and disengaged her tenuous contact with Hoskins.

The drowsiness fell away and she was once again alert. She looked about her, confirming nothing from the dead instrument panels.

The arcing horizon of Nimloth glowed ahead and beneath her ship, stretching to fill the horizon.

The first rumbles of reentry began as a sinking sensation in her belly. Then the soft vibrations as the outermost layers of atmosphere began interacting with the ship.

A quick glance to her right and she could see the bottom of Marton's ship beginning to glow from the increasing friction.

The world shook violently as the ships dropped fully into the grasp of the planet.

The minds beneath her reawakened in a terror so palpable that she gave a startled cry.

Her hands grasped the pilot's yoke, more out of a misplaced sense of security than anything else, and she leaned forward, her eyes on the horizon.

The light beyond her canopy grew brighter as she fell into pale blue sky. Flames licked along the underside of the ship, flickering around the canopy.

The vibration changed suddenly, and Nicolla glanced around, peering down past the fading flames of reentry to see the three Kajano frigates plummeting away beneath her.

"Of course!" she said aloud.

The three alien frigates were larger and heavier than the smaller deployment vehicles. Once the gravity had them, it had forced them down more quickly.

The frigates pulled away dropping through thin layers of clouds, fading in and out of sight.

"Jeeves!" Nicolla cried in rising fear. She was suddenly back aboard the Phoenix Fire, plummeting to her doom in a dead ship. Far below her, the pale blue ocean waited to engulf her.

"Tyrion!" She cried again. "Please! Wake up!"

The speakers in her flight helmet crackled and several smaller monitors flickered.

The trip hammer of her heart changed from panic to focused determination. She was once again, in the moment.

"Yes!" She tested the controls, but received no response. "Come on, baby! Give me something!"

"Miss?" Jeeves said from behind her.

One by one, the instrument panels returned to life. She keyed her coms.

"Beck! Do you copy?"

"Barely," he replied in a static filled voice. "Systems are coming back up, but a lot slower than we expected."

"Shut off everything except engines and flight assist systems," Nicolla ordered.

"No shit, really?" Marton shot back.

Nicolla keyed off and turned her head back. "Same to you, buster!"

"Buster?" Jeeves raised an eyebrow as his pale fingers moved across the controls. He continued for a few moments and then sighed. "Our operating software has been erased. Engage the backup, please."

Nicolla connected the circuit to her protected hard drive and hit the red switch as soon as it illuminated. At the same time, she keyed the com frequency.

"Reboot! Reboot!"

"Right!" Iesha replied.

Beneath her, the three frigates vanished again through a layer of condensation, reappearing seconds later.

"Tell me something, honey!" Nicolla asked.

"The system is loading, Miss," Jeeves replied without a hint of concern. "Nearly there."

They burst through another layer of clouds and the vast ocean spread out before her, stretching to the horizon. Her altimeter began ticking back quickly from twenty-five thousand feet.

"Right!" Jeeves announced. "System set, initiating start sequence on engine number one."

"Start them both!" Nicolla shouted. She opened the atmospheric intakes and felt the ship shudder as the air rushed through the cold engines.

"Light them up! Light them up!" Nicolla screamed.

A familiar whine began rising from the ship and then the rumble of the engines overcame the howl of wind passing around the ship.

Nicolla let the engines spool up as much as she dared and then fire walled the throttle while simultaneously pulling the yoke into her chest.

Rolling to the side, she saw Marton and Iesha's ship, filled with all of their equipment, continue its deadly plunge.

Smoke burst from the engines in a long, dark trail.

"Beck!" she cried.

"One second," he replied calmly. "Had a little misfire there."

"Pull it up!" Nicolla begged.

She saw the white hot glow of the exhaust from the engines and the ship began nosing slowly up.

"They're not going to clear the water, Miss," Jeeves said clinically.

"Dammit, Beck!" Nicolla roared. "Get your nose up!"

"You know," Marton replied calmly. "Maybe I should get the nose up."

The weapons pods folded out on their long, slender wings and the braking flaps extended.

Marton's ship heeled up on its tail and the boosters erupted like white fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nicolla screamed.

"Just tapping the brakes," Marton replied coolly. "One second."

The Suko stood up with its tail pointed almost straight down at the water and, miraculously, pushed itself away from the sea in a violent fountain as the inertia carried Marton's ship forward.

Over the com, Iesha screamed.

As the forward momentum took hold, Marton expertly brought the nose back down and began climbing back up away from the water.

The pent up air burst from Nicolla's lungs.

"Marton?" she called.

"Cooking and booking," Marton replied. His ship rose from the surface, its wing pods retracting back into the body of the vessel as he fell into formation. "On your wing."

There was a pause and then he asked. "Where'd the big boys go?"

"I have them," Iesha called. "Three marks bearing two, three, seven at one thousand feet."

"Confirmed," Jeeves replied.

"Jeeves," Nicolla ordered. "Begin scanning for signals on a Confederated Tactical Frequency."

"Any signal?" Jeeves asked.

"Felix left a data pad in Minas Tirith," Nicolla nodded. "That's our flight beacon. It should be the only signal that matches our projected course."

"Pretty sharp, Boss," Marton commented.

"I have a faint echo north by northeast," Iesha reported. "Nine hundred miles, plus or minus. No other contacts."

"We are right where we are supposed to be after reentry, Miss," Jeeves added.

"That's it," Nicolla spotted the distant Kajano Frigates and goosed the throttle. She opened the com channel again.

"Kajano Flight, Kajano Flight, Adjust course North by Northeast, bearing zero, four, one, and regroup. Do you copy?"

There was no reply over the com, but the three ships rose and turned, heading to meet them.

Nicolla fixed her eyes forward, gazing out at the vast expanse of ocean and a confident smile began pulling at her lips. "Nice work Jeeves."

"A pleasure, Miss," he replied. In a tone that sounded genuinely pleased.

Company wasn't usually permitted during the watch, but the southern tower of Minas Tirith had never been an active site in the past, so the fact that two hobbits stood the post really didn't raise many eyebrows.

Had the prying eyes peered closer, however, they would have seen the guard on duty, seated casually on against one of the stone supports, smoking a pipe, his helmet and weapons set carefully against the rail nearby.

Pippen puffed thoughtfully as he gazed out over the rocky expanse that was the flat top of Mount Mendeluin. Nearby was the large pile of oiled wood, which served as the first beacon of Gondor.

Pippen remembered climbing up the treacherous path to light that beacon, twenty years ago, starting the chain reaction of similar fires, stretching across the mountains to within sight of Rohan, summoning the Horse Lords to their aid during the battle of Pelannor Fields. That was a long time ago and the idea that Gondor might require such a device again was remote. Still, the tradition remained.

Across from the small stone shelter, Merry stood, leaning against the high rail and staring out back across the land towards the black wall of mountains which bordered Mordor. He was also lost in his own memories. In his hand, he absently held the strange data pad left to them by the man named Felix.

Between them, in front of a small fire, sat the remains of a lunch. Pippin reached over and took the last of the apples in the bag, crunching loudly as he took a bite.

The sound snapped the other hobbit out of his introspection.

"Was that the last one?" Merry asked.

Pippin nodded and then frowned as his eyes settled on the otherworldly device again. "What's that?"

Merry looked down at the data pad and frowned. "What's what?"

"That flashing light, there?" Pippin pointed to the small red indicator that was pulsing with internal fire. "It's never done that before."

Even as he made the comment, the air rippled with distant thunder. They both looked up at the clear sky, curious.

"Another one?" Pippin asked.

"That sounded different from the last time," Merry commented, his eyes moving back and forth from the glowing red spot on the data pad screen, and the expanse of water beyond the mountain top where they stood.

Pippin squinted when he caught a silver glare from something down near the water. "What's that?" He pointed out at the small cluster of specks moving across the ocean. "Way off, down there. See it?"

Merry looked where his cousin indicated and furrowed his brows as he squinted to try and focus on the movement.

"I can't tell," He said. "But they're coming this way."

Long before the distant objects became clear, they vanished beneath the lip of the stone mountain.

Pippin jumped up on the rail, hoping to catch another glimpse of the objects.

After several moments, he sighed, letting himself come back down from standing on his toes.

"Well," he said. "Whatever it was, it's gone now."

"Should we tell the king?" Merry suggested.

"Tell him what?" Pippin began.

Something huge and dark roared over their heads with a deafening noise and a rush of hot air that blew them both to the cold stone floor.

Pippin rolled over and sprang to his feet, reaching for the rope on the signal bell and pulling with a frenzy that was mixed panic and excitement in equal measure.

"Now, we tell the king!" he shouted.

"Come on!" Merry cried, and he darted from the post, heading down the stairs towards the main castle.

Ignoring the possible consequences of abandoning his assigned post, Pippin followed after giving the signal bell a few more good solid tugs.

Guards were running to positions along the walls, as Merry and Pippin ran to the throne room.

"Lord Aragorn! Lord Aragorn!" Merry cried as he burst into the grand chamber.

The king was already on his feet, moving towards the exit with the lady Arwen beside him.

"More flying machines!" Merry gasped.

The three of them headed out towards the courtyard.

Once outside, they could hear more clearly, the distant roar, like thunder that refused to die.

Arwen scanned the sky and then pointed towards Osgiliath. "There!"

As they peered into the distance, they could just make out the two shapes, arcing through the sky around the city of Osgiliath and turning back toward them.

"My Lord," One of the sable clad guards said urgently. "We must get you into the safety of your keep. It is dangerous for you to be here!"

"Stay," Aragorn held his hand out, forestalling the man. "Whatever danger this may be, we shall face it here, openly."

Twenty dark clad soldiers of Gondor encircled the royal couple protectively.

"Come," Aragorn ordered as he strode towards the long promenade, struggling to keep the approaching objects in sight.

The air filled with a rumbling sound as the two creatures vanished beneath the line of the promenade. They burst up into view with a deafening howl, heeling over and coming to a stop, hovering on either side of the stone plateau, long narrow wings extended, insect like in shape.

Three narrow protuberances extended from the bottoms of each vessel and they gracefully dropped to the flagstones in unison.

"What manner of evil is this?" one of the guards said over the roar.

The noise subsided and the two objects fell silent.

"We have seen many wonders these past months," Aragorn said evenly. "And not all of them have been evil.

The bottoms of the objects opened, lowering to reveal wheeled conveyances within. These in turn rolled slowly out and stopped.

Then four helmeted figures emerged, walking down the ramps, moving towards the assembled soldiers.

The figures reached up and unclasped fixtures on their helmets before removing them.

"Lady Nicolla!" Arwen gasped in surprise.

"Hello again," Nicolla smiled broadly. "So, what have I missed?"

"Stand at ease," Aragorn ordered as he stepped up to meet them.

One of the conveyances opened and more figures emerged from within, all adorned in similar dark utilitarian clothing, each bearing weapons.

The king extended his hands and Nicolla took them, her smile remaining.

"How is it that you come to be here, Lady?" Aragorn asked. "At the last, I understood you were with Master Tyrion and his party?"

"Long story," Nicolla nodded and then turned to indicate the other people stepping forward and made introductions. "I'll be happy to fill you in as soon as we get settled, if that's alright?"

"Of course," Aragorn nodded. He looked towards the assembling group. "And who are these people?"

"Friends, Your Majesty," Nicolla's grin took on a more mischievous look.

A dark shadow fell over the assembly and all eyes turned up as three more, much larger vessels coasted slowly and silently overhead. One of them slowed to a halt and turned gracefully to hover at the end of the stone walkway.

"Nicolla?" Arwen asked.

"I brought lots of friends," Nicolla finished. Then her expression became more serious. "Please tell your men not to draw their weapons." She turned and indicated the Kajano Frigate. "These friends are a bit touchy, and their appearance may alarm you."

"Indeed?" Aragorn's eyebrows rose.

"I would advise against any actions that may appear overly provocative, sir," the pale one, Jeeves added.

A wide ramp lowered from the side of the hovering ship, and a dozen massive, armored figures strode out, their faceplates turning from side to side, taking in the surroundings and the dozens of armored and armed soldiers.

Clawed fingers twitched in anticipation, and here and there came that ominous clicking growl.

"Peace, everyone!" Aragorn called in a loud, commanding voice. "If the lady Nicolla says these are friends, then we may trust it."

He stepped forward, flanked by half a dozen body guards, as a similar contingent of the strange creatures did the same.

Nicolla interposed herself between the two parties.

"King Aragorn," She said, indicating the massive alien. "May I present Thugal, of the Kajano, a race of warriors from another world."

She indicated Thugal. "This is King Aragorn."

"Greetings," Aragorn nodded.

The armored faceplate moved in similar fashion, indicating the smaller human before it.

Quickly, Nicolla recounted the tale regarding the other Kajano and the battle near the fjord of Isengard.

Aragorn listened, his eyes never leaving the creature before him.

"And so you brought them here?" Aragorn asked, once the tale was told.

The one called Jeeves stepped forward. "We felt that it would be a matter of proper decorum to inform Your Majesty of these new travelers in your lands, before we went to find Master Thugal's associates."

"I see," Aragorn nodded again. "It is well that you did so. So many strange wonders would strike fear in my allies."

"Also," Nicolla continued. "We needed a place from which to operate. I was wondering if the house we used before was still available?"

Thugal's armored head turned towards Nicolla, and she stiffened a bit. "On the other hand, Master Thugal would rather begin his search immediately…" her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on Merry and the data pad he held in his hand.

She frowned. "What's that?"

Merry frowned and extended the data pad to her. "Master Felix left this to me, to aid in my translations."  
"I know that," Nicolla smiled. "I mean, what is the message you have waiting on it?"

"Message?" Merry frowned.

Nicolla took the data pad and looked at it. She pressed the small glowing icon.

In a crackle of static, they heard Felix's voice emerge.

"_Recon, Seven, Three, calling Minas Tirith, do not attempt to respond. A large hostile force is moving south east from Callas Galathon towards Minas Tirith. Estimate time of arrival is twenty days from original transmission. Secondary force also moving south east from mountain range northwest of same, two days behind. Enemy strength is…fucking huge!_

_This message will be set to repeat every five minutes until battery life exhausted. Secondary force is approaching our position, E.T.A., ten hours. Do not attempt retrieval of Recon, Repeat, do not attempt retrieval. Take care of yourselves. Out."_

No one spoke for a long time.

"Felix," Nicolla breathed.

"How old is that message?" The man, Dade asked.

Nicolla looked at the data pad. "Time stamp is six hours old."

"Then we have time." He turned back to the others. "Hoskins, get everything loaded back up!"

"How far away is this Callas Galathon?" Marton asked urgently.

"A fortnight's journey, if one is pressed by great need," Aragorn replied, walking with them toward the ships.

"We would have no time to unload, sir," Jeeves added quickly. "If the time stamp on that message is six hours old and the hostile group moving towards your people was ten hours away, then we would need to launch now in order to have any hope of reaching them."

Nicolla looked up at the king and smiled. "Well, it was nice to see you again," she offered lamely.

"Go," Aragorn smiled. Then he turned to Thugal. "Go to your peoples."

Quickly, Aragorn and Arwen gave Nicolla and Thugal some vague explanations as to what land features to look for and a general direction to their targets.

Dade turned and issued orders to Roscoe and Mileasha and the others who immediately returned to their vehicles and began preparing for departure.

When Nicolla and Jeeves turned to run back to their Suko they saw Mileasha and Roscoe mounting a small winged projectile to the nose mount of her ship.

A side hatch hissed open and the ramp rose, locking the vehicle back into place.

"Let's go! Let's go!" Marton shouted as he donned his helmet.

Thugal and his contingent turned and returned to their ship. The massive frigate rose and accelerated into the distance.

"Safe journey," Aragorn nodded. "I shall prepare the city for attack and send word to Lord Faramir."

"We'll see if we can do something about that on the way," Nicolla nodded.

The two vehicles roared back to life and leapt from the precipice, shooting off into the sky.

Aragorn and Arwen watched them fade into the distance.

"Master at Arms!" Aragorn turned to his captain. "Send word to Lord Faramir and begin a muster of all able bodied men in the city!"

"My Lord!" The captain thumped his hand against his chest and wheeled away.

The king turned back towards the keep and paused after a few steps when his queen did not immediately follow.

Looking back, he frowned.

Arwen stared back at him, a mildly concerned look on her face.

"Lady?"

She looked about and then back. "Where are the hobbits?"

The lands shot past them as they climbed into the sky.

"Pardon me, miss," Jeeves asked. "What did you mean when you said we would 'do something' about the contingent of enemy forces moving towards Minas Tirith?"

"I meant exactly what I said," Nicolla replied. "I figure we do a pass and drop off a present or two."

"I see," Jeeves said uncomfortably. "You are aware of the legal ramifications of this type of interference, I assume?"

"I gave up on playing by the rules a while ago, honey," Nicolla replied. Then she smiled. "Heck, I came back from the dead, remember?"

"Deploy sensor drone," Dade ordered from the command console in the ADV, locked in the hold.

"Yes, sir," Jeeves activated the control and the small winged projectile rocketed away from beneath the front of their ship.

"Drone deployed," he reported.

In the ADV, Dade slid his chair over to a secondary terminal and began keying in commands at a furious pace.

Data began flooding his screen and visual readouts played up on secondary displays.

"Flight looks good," he nodded. "Receiving telemetry. Mileasha, begin broadcast on the data pad frequency. See if you can raise Recon Three."

Mileasha keyed her communications terminal. "Recon three, please respond."

"Okay," Dade said a few minutes later. "Sensor Drone is holding at thirty-eight thousand feet." He paused again.

After a few more minutes he returned.

"I have a large signature at bearing zero, seven, zero," he reported. "Looks like a mass of hostiles moving southeast along Recon's projected path."

"Define mass," Nicolla asked.

"Exactly what I mean," Dade offered. "Funny thing is, they aren't rank and file like a normal formation and the bio readings for them are – different."

"Most of the life forms on this planet are not what we would call normal, Dade," Nicolla explained.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to get that," Dade replied. "I'm sending the image up to your monitor. You tell me if these are the bad guys you've been dealing with here."

Nicolla's monitor blinked and then an image from the sensor drone appeared on her heads up display. The numerous grotesque countenances of the orcs in their variants of battle gear were easily recognizable, as were the bulbous shapes of the eight legged creatures from the dark woods.

"Oh yeah," Nicolla suppressed a shudder. "Those are them."

"Righto," Dade replied. "I am designating that waypoint Kill Zone One and sending telemetry to your consoles."

A few moments later, a list of coordinates scrolled across her screen.

"Got it." Marton called.

"Ready," Nicolla added.

"Assume heading zero, seven, zero," Dade ordered. "Deploy pods, bring your LG's online. Approach vector South, intercept in fifteen, that is one, five minutes."

The two ships expanded their wings and munitions pods as they turned north, dropping closer to the ground.

"Map the surface till we reach two miles, then climb to deployment altitude," Dade continued.

Inside the deployment vehicle, Dade swiveled his chair and motioned to Iesha. "Get over here and assume control of the drone. I need to you to laze the target area."

Iesha released her restraints and scrambled into the second seat.

In a matter of moments, she had the drone off its automatic control and responding to her input.

"I have it," she reported.

"Bring it around on bearing one, four, seven," Dade ordered as he read the telemetry. "Laze target thirty seconds prior to arrival."

Then he turned to the others sitting strapped into their seats. "Everyone hold on. It's about to get wild in here."

In the sky above the marching army, the dark winged drone wheeled lazily and began another sweep. Beneath its nose, the small ocular tracker spun, holding the image of the moving mass below.

"Check! Check!" Iesha called suddenly.

"What have you got?" Dade leaned in close. On the image, they could see a single pale figure in the midst of the dark mass.

"Zoom in on that," Dade ordered.

The image resolved itself into the form of a young looking blonde haired female, dressed in tattered rags, though she wore them with a bearing that suggested regal robes.

She was seated on a litter, born by four large, dark skinned creatures.

"Do we abort?" Dade asked.

"Those boys don't usually take prisoners," Nicolla said. "And the crawlons only take what they plan to eat later."

Iesha frowned at the image as she studied it. "She doesn't look like she's being treated as a prisoner?" She sent the image to the flight deck. "What do you think?"

Nicolla's eyes narrowed when she saw the image.

"She's no prisoner," She hissed, remembering her own death. "Heck, she's probably the one in charge."

"Miss?" Jeeves inquired.

Nicolla switched her com off. "She's the one that," her voice faltered. She took a deep breath. "She made it possible for me to show up at your employers drift, let's just leave it at that."

"I understand," Jeeves replied easily.

Nicolla reactivated her headset. "Dade, that bitch down there is with them."

"Oh, really?" Dade's eyebrows rose at the vehemence in Nicolla's voice. He was about to press the issue when the emotional wave hit him. Whatever the point of contention between them, it was bitter, and mortal.

"Iesha," Nicolla continued. "When you laze the target, make sure it's pointed at her head."

Iesha smirked. "Yes ma'am."

The two drop ships hurtled across the landscape, sometimes missing small features or tree tops by only a couple of meters.

"Flight," Dade reported. "Approaching K.Z. One, sixty seconds."

"Going hot," Marton reported.

"Weapons ready," Nicolla said.

"Tracking ready," Iesha reported.

"Clear for your run," Dade continued.

Nicolla felt her fingers twitching on the control yoke as she mentally counted down the seconds.

"Tracking, laze the target," Dade ordered. "Flight, execute."

"Take lead," Marton called. "I have your wing."

"Confirmed," Nicolla replied smartly. The Sukos angled up sharply, rocketing into the sky. At ten thousand feet, she leveled off and turned towards the laser signal. Below, on the silver plains, she could see the mass, moving like a dark stain across the landscape.

"That got their attention," Iesha reported. "Target is locked. Deploy at will."

"Set detonation at six meters," Nicolla ordered. "Ready to drop!"

The two vessels shot over the loose formation.

"Drop now, now, now!" Nicolla ordered as her sensor board lit up.

There was a subtle thud.

"Weapons away," Marton reported.

As Nicolla glanced back, heeling the ship over, two large oblong shapes detached from the underside of his wing pods, arcing to the surface.

"Hey, Nicolla," Iesha called. "I have a present for you."

The secondary panel lit up again, and Nicolla recognized it as a camera view from the sensor pack at the nose of one bomb.

As she watched the land in the image rushed up towards her, passing through the wispy clouds, arcing gently into the center of the formation. She could make out the small pale spot amidst the shadow. It grew until she could make out the slender feminine shape. Her golden hair blew in the wind as her face turned skyward, mouth dropping open and eyes going wide in sudden realization…

The screen flashed to static. At the same time, far below, she caught the reflection of multiple explosions in her canopy window.

Nicolla managed a satisfied smile. "Bitch."

"I thought you'd appreciate that," Iesha said.

"Do a flyby and then set the drone back on task," Dade ordered. "Let's see how much damage we did."

The flyby showed survivors – those furthest away from the cluster of explosions – moving away from the area in disorganized packs. Nowhere in the groups did they see the pale clad woman.

"Wow!" Mileasha commented. "There's still a lot left down there."

Dade nodded. "We don't have time for another pass. Get us back on that errant signal."

Iesha nodded and arced the drone up and away from the engagement zone.

Legolas sat motionlessly, his eyes fixed on the slowly approaching mass that crept towards their hideout, perched on the flat top of a bluff.

Behind him, leaning against a stone, eyes closed and snoring softly, sat Felix, and on the other side, Mavon was cleaning his weapon.

In the east, the sky began to pale with the coming of day.

"It's a strange feeling," Legolas offered. "Sitting here, under the fading stars and watching your own doom approach."

"Oh, you're a thrill a minute, Legs," Mavon muttered.

Felix's eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start, his hand grasping his weapon.

"Relax, Doc," Mavon slapped the magazine back into his own weapon. "The guests haven't started arriving yet."

Felix took a deep breath and stood up, gazing out towards the mountains.

"Twice in the same year," he sighed. "It just isn't fair."

Mavon looked up and frowned.

"The whole 'dying' thing?" Felix finished.

Mavon smiled and took a long drink from his canteen. "Well, we all got to go some time. You just can't keep the fat lady from singing."

At that comment, Legolas looked up, confused.

"Fat lady?"

Mavon and Felix both chuckled at the reference.

"It's an expression," Felix offered. "And in my case it looks like the bitch is getting an encore."

"Usually, at the end of a musical bit of theater, known as opera, the entire cast gets to sing a solo." Mavon explained. "The final bit is usually reserved for the star female in the production. For some strange reason, a lot of the ladies who sing opera are larger than normal."

"That isn't entirely accurate, Mave," Felix added with a wry smile.

"So, someone coined the phrase, 'it isn't over till the fat lady sings'," Mavon finished.

"Ah," Legolas nodded. "I think I understand."

Mavon raised his spotter's glasses to his eyes, his face grim. "And the fat lady is warming up now."

Legolas looked out in the direction Mavon gazed and nodded. "Orcs, goblins, and trolls from the Misty Mountains."

"Yeah, no problem," Mavon sighed as he took the glasses and also gazed out towards the mass of creatures. "Okay Legolas, you take half, and I'll take half."

Felix chuckled.

Across the wind, they could hear the rumble of countless feet as the mass of creatures ran across the plain, hacking and hewing down anything in their path. A dark trail of broken packed earth extended behind them like a gash in the flesh of the world.

Felix stepped up, resting one foot on a stone as he knelt forward and looked at the approaching storm.

He checked the charge on his ammunition clip and reloaded his weapon.

The minutes crawled by as they watched the approaching horde.

"Okay kids," Felix said after an hour had passed. "Time to get ready for company."

They moved back from the edge of the butte and took cover behind a small cluster of gray stones.

Mavon reached into a sleeve pocket and drew out a small black cylinder. He popped the top off and drew out a single cigarette and match. He struck the match on the stone and lit the cigarette, taking a tentative puff.

Felix released the safety catch on his weapon and aimed it towards the noise of the approaching masses.

"I thought you gave those up?" he asked.

Mavon stifled a cough and shrugged. "I doubt it makes much difference at this point."

They raised their weapons.

Felix looked over and saw Legolas, bow drawn his eyes focused forward and alight with an internal fire he had never seen in anyone before.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," Mavon replied.

"Let them come," Legolas growled.

The noise rose as they heard creatures coming up the side of the cliff towards them.

At the same time, Felix heard a soft beep from his coms earpiece.

Frowning, he raised the device to his ear.

"Station calling Recon Seven-Three, repeat?"

Frowning, Mavon also raised his own earpiece and listened intently.

"Recon Seven-three, this is Suko Flight, inbound for dust-off, do you copy?" an unfamiliar female voice called.

Felix and Mavon exchanged a look of amazement.

"Dust-off?" Mavon exclaimed, tossing his half smoked cigarette.

"Suko flight," Felix called. "I don't know who you are or where you came from, but get your ass down here pronto!"

"Recon," the voice called again. "We are homing in on your transmission. E.T.A. one minute."

"Suko flight," Felix called. "Be advised, we have inbound hostiles. Zone will be hot!" He gave Mavon a nod.

Mavon pulled a signal canister grenade and threw it.

"Dust-off east of green smoke!" Felix called. He began backing away from their cover.

"I don't hear any fat lady!" Mavon shouted in near panic.

"Let's go! Let's go!" The three of them ran through the smoke heading to the opposite side of the plateau just as the first of the creatures crested the rise.

Dade checked the monitors. "I have green smoke, southwest at three kliks!"

"Suko!" Felix shouted as he ran. "You are cleared in hot, approach vector north for close air support. Friendlies in the box!"

"Understood Recon," Iesha replied.

"Flight," Dade called. "Turn south heading zero, one, zero! Stand by for attack run!"

"Beck!" Nicolla called. "Make a pass with the plasma cannon, and divert to pick them up, I'll come in with the lancers and create a break wall between the l.z. and the hostiles."

"Roger that," Marton replied.

"There!" Legolas pointed to the sky, north of them. "I see them! Two of them!"

"Come on!" Mavon shouted at the approaching horde "Come and get it!"

The other two looked as the first of the massive trolls emerged from the smoke.

"Oh shit!" Felix raised his weapon and opened fire.

The lead troll absorbed most of the impact before it finally stumbled and fell, but behind it came countless more creatures. Trolls, orcs, goblins, and more came screaming towards them.

"Reloading!" Felix cried, letting the spent clip fall from his weapon as he slapped a new one in place.

Mavon panned his weapon from side to side, cutting a bloody swath in the approaching ranks as Legolas fired arrow after arrow

"Reloading!" Mavon dropped the clip, reversed it and slid the fresh end into the chamber.

"Recon, take cover!" the female voice called. "We are coming in to pick you up now!"

"You get me before these bastards and I swear I'll kiss you!" Mavon shouted as he turned and practically tackled Legolas as the three of them hit the deck.

The ground in the front of the attackers erupted in a hail of red fire as the first ship roared overhead, the plasma blasts shredding the front ranks.

"Back! Back!" Felix pulled them up to their feet as they turned and fled.

The first ship wheeled around and dropped towards them, landing a short distance away.

The ramp lowered and they scrambled in as the second ship rocketed past. This time the ground became an instant inferno as a series of projectiles burst from the pods on the upper control surfaces.

"Oh yes!" Mavon shouted defiantly. "That's the way we play!"

"Come on!" Felix pushed Legolas up the ramp.

Mavon scrambled in as Felix hit a com switch on a nearby control panel. "Go! Go! Go!"

The gunship lifted from the ground, throwing them against the bulkhead as the ship turned and vaulted skyward.

"Lead," Marton called. "We are clear and heavy three, copy?"

Nicolla smiled. "Understood. Get one of them on the channel."

Mavon was breathing deep as the adrenalin began to fade when a shadow appeared before him. He looked up to see a short, lovely woman with shoulder length blonde hair and piercing aqua eyes.

"You boys alright?" she asked with a confident smirk.

Mavon smiled and nodded. "Just one question: Were you the one we were talking to?"

"Shouting at would be closer to it," she nodded. "And yes."

Mavon nodded and got to his feet. In a swift motion, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.

Then he was slammed against the bulkhead with a force that caused spots before his eyes.

"What the hell?" He asked, somewhat dazed. "I gave you fair warning!"

She knelt down in front of him and smiled again. "I never said yes."

She looked up at Legolas and Felix. "Come on. The boss needs to speak with you."

"I thought you were the one in charge?" Felix asked.

Again she smiled and shook her head. She tossed a headset to Felix.

The man caught it and put it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Where's Tyrion?" the voice asked without preamble.

"Nicky?" Felix shot to his feet.

"Nicky?" Mavon asked.

"Yes Felix," Nicolla replied. "It's me. Now, where is Tyrion?"

"Mountain range, due west," Felix said quickly. "Apart from that I don't know much."

"Got that, Dade?" Nicolla asked.

"I could use a little more than a general direction, Captain," another voice replied.

"Well, I," Felix stammered. His eyes fell on Legolas, looking about the cramped hold in wonder. "One second."

He removed the headset and extended it to Legolas.

"They need some specific information on where the boss went." he said. "And you know more than I do."

Legolas took the headset and tentatively held it to his ear. "Yes?"

Tyrion panned his light around the abandoned corridor. The passage ended in a sheer wall of stone. There was no sign of any way through and still, Gimli had sworn that this was the gate they had been seeking.

"Run for miles, then freeze my dick off and damn near drowns," Silas grumbled. "For this?"

Tyrion knelt down next to one of the abandoned campsites and leaned his back against the wall, his small light scanning the discarded items on the filthy floor.

Nearby, Gabrielle and Xena stood, their eyes focused back down the corridor. Gabrielle wrinkled her nose as she watched Tyrion stoop closer to examine something.

"How can you bear the smell?" she asked suddenly.

Tyrion glanced up momentarily and then went back to his inspection. "The more you think about something," he said simply. "The worse it is."

His eyes noted the various stains and excrement mingled in the discarded remnants of the camp. His light followed the discoloration along the finished stone.

"Hey, Gimli?" he asked as he continued following the sewage stain along the corridor towards the wall. "I have drainage flow on this side of the passage." He stopped when he reached the corner of the passage wall and their obstacle. His light stopped on a collected pile of filth that occupied the corner. "And it stops right here."

The dwarf looked over towards him from his inspection site on the opposite side of the passage.

"So?" He grumbled.

"So," Tyrion offered. "I would expect that the mechanism that operates this door would be recessed as part of the concealment, right?"

"And?" Xena asked.

"And," Tyrion continued. "It would make sense that the control for the door would be located close to the mechanism that operates it, right?"

"Yes," Gimli nodded, his eyes and mind following Tyrion's thought and its inevitable conclusion.

The soldier offered a helpless shrug and a sigh before looking back down at the muck. "Well, guess what."

"Ah shit," Silas grumbled.

"Among other things," Tyrion nodded as he unshouldered his pack and pulled a collapsible shovel.

Silas did the same and the two of them stepped forward.

The shovels squelched into the pile and fresh waves of stench wafted out to them. Xena and Gimli moaned in disgust while Tyrion and Silas tried desperately to breathe without inhaling.

Gabrielle threw up.

After several minutes of digging through the mess, Tyrion discovered a small lever protruding from the wall about two feet from the floor. It was low to the floor for a normal person but just the right height for a dwarf.

"Well, well," He smiled as he hooked the back of hi shovel under the lever and gave it a sharp pull upward.

There was a loud metallic clank and the wall before them began to sink slowly down into the floor.

Fresh cold air rushed into the chamber, driving the stench away.

"Oh thank the gods," Gabrielle gasped as she stumbled towards the opening. "Can we please get out of here now?"

"Easy there, Little Bit," Silas held out a hand to stop her.

Tyrion nodded and the two of them raised their weapons and moved into the new passage.

Unlike the interior of the mines, this new area was naturally formed, untouched by mason's tools. The path itself moved forward level and mostly straight. As they progressed, the light grew until it became almost blinding.

"Surely this is the cave where my father and his companions camped many years ago," Gimli smiled.

Tyrion and Silas stopped behind a pair of outcroppings when the entrance came into view.

Xena came to kneel beside Tyrion as a pair of shadows passed across the opening.

"Timing is everything," Silas muttered.

Tyrion considered for a moment. Their quarry was passing their position in plain sight, but he had no idea how many of them there were. In retrospect Korbal had never given Tyrion numbers of the enemy. They could emerge from concealment in the middle of an enemy column, and despite their advantage in weaponry, sheer numbers could mean the end of them.

"Weapons ready," he whispered as he activated his com unit. "Wait for my signal."

Silas nodded as he slung his assault rifle and primed his heavy weapon.

Tyrion looked back at the others. "We'll go first, stay between us until we know what we're in for, got it?"

Gimli and Gabrielle nodded, while Xena removed her chakram and drew her sword.

The two men moved like extensions of the shadows with fluid, silent steps towards the entrance.

Tyrion signaled for Silas to turn left when he emerged, then the two of them stepped out onto a narrow mountain path.

Tyrion turned right, scanning the path back down to the east and found three orcs marching toward him. Before they could cry out, he opened fire, dropping them.

"Hi boys!" Silas greeted from the other side of the entrance, and then his heavy cannon thundered.

Tyrion turned around as Xena, Gimli and Gabrielle emerged.

Tyrion stepped quickly past them and opened up on the other targets.

"At least forty orcs had passed the entrance and they were all in the process of dying under Silas's powerful gun. It was over in a matter of a few heartbeats. Only a handful of the brutes had even managed to draw a weapon.

"Check!" Silas barked as he and Tyrion moved forward, weapons trained on the bodies scattered across the narrow path.

"Easy, easy," Tyrion replied as he inspected the first victims.

"Clear?" He called as Silas moved ahead.

"Clear!" Silas confirmed.

The path descended hugging the side of the peak and vanishing around a gentle turn nearby.

Tyrion waved two fingers forward, signaling Silas to advance to that point.

The five of them crept forward, their eyes alert for any sign of a counter attack.

The mountain air was cool and sharp as it entered their lungs, and the wind moaned gently as it moved through the canyon beside the path.

Gabrielle risked a quick look over the edge of their narrow passage and fought off a sudden wave of vertigo.

The cliff dropped for hundreds of feet to a lower shelf and then continued down into the misty depths. She instinctively moved closer to the rock face on her left.

Suddenly, Silas raised his hand, fist closed, indicating they should stop.

He looked back at Tyrion and pointed at his eyes with two fingers, then held up one finger, then pointed at the corner.

Tyrion nodded and moved closer to the precipice. He stopped and knelt, his weapon steady on the edge of the rock wall.

"Couple of ways we can do this!" he announced. "You can surrender, or I can blow your ass off the face of this mountain! You got five seconds!"

Before he could begin counting, the earpiece speaker crackled to life.

"Recon Seven Three to Recon Seven One," A familiar voice called. "Are you receiving?"

Tyrion indicated his earpiece and then indicated Silas should respond to the call, then he began counting down from five aloud.

When he reached two a pair of hands emerged from concealment.

"Very well, Master," a soft voice cooed. "You have prevailed this day."

"Come out," Tyrion ordered. "Nice and slow."

"Of course," the voice replied. And a man dressed in fine, albeit dirty court robes emerged.

His features would have been handsome, if it were not for the almost reptilian coolness of his eyes. He was thin and a bit haggard, sign of having been forced to travel far in a short period of time.

"I congratulate you on a superb chase, Master," he nodded, smiling a humorless smile.

"Come forward!" Tyrion ordered.

The man stepped forward until Tyrion ordered him to stop and drop to his knees.

The man complied and Tyrion stepped forward.

The second figure, an Orc of unusually large proportions and concealed behind the rock wall, burst forth with a bellow of rage.

There was a whirling sound like a saw blade, and Xena's chakram caught the would-be assassin in the center of his armored chest. The circular weapon ricocheted off its target, bounced against the stone wall and landed neatly back in the hand of its owner as the Orc teetered for a moment before plummeting over the edge with a cry of fury.

At the same moment, the man tried to jump to his feet and run, only to get the butt of Tyrion's weapon in the back of the head. He dropped senseless to the stone.

Tyrion looked back at Xena, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Thanks," he nodded.

Xena smiled. "Any time."

"Boss," Silas tapped his ear. "I got Mavon on the line, looking to hook up with us."

Tyrion tapped his ear piece and smiled. "Felix, Mavon, what's your location?"

Instead of Mavon's voice, Felix answered.

"About sixty feet from you and rising."

"What?" Tyrion frowned.

From the depths, they heard the unmistakable sound of engines coming toward them.

Two powerful vessels rose from the depths before them, hovering in the canyon.

One of them turned to the side and standing within the open hatch was a grinning Felix.

"You guys looking for a lift?" he shouted.

"Where the hell you find those?" Silas bellowed over the engine noise.

In a few moments, they were aboard along with their unconscious prisoner.

Gabrielle practically flew into Felix's arms.

"So, you miss us or what?" Felix asked as he returned her embrace and then shook hands with the others.

"What went down with your side trip?" Tyrion asked.

"Well, you were right about the girl," Felix said. "She turned out to be more than a plant, though."

"Bitch knifed me," Mavon added. "Then called all manner of nasties after us."

"If it wasn't for our friends here," Felix indicated the cargo hold they were currently occupying. "We would have been toast."

"And who are your new friends?" Tyrion pressed.

Felix only tapped the side of his nose and smiled. "Don't worry about it. All I can tell you, now, is that you can trust them."

"That's all you can tell me?" Tyrion replied, dubious.

"We got an army heading southeast towards Minas Tirith," Felix continued quickly, diverting Tyrion's inquiry. "Similar situation to what we ran into outside Edoras, only bigger.

"How much bigger?" Silas asked.

"A-frigging-lot," Mavon nodded.

Tyrion seemed to absorb that as he leaned against the bulkhead, his expression becoming thoughtful. He drew out a cigarette and lit it.

"Our friends here," Felix resumed. "Managed to kick them in the teeth on their way to find us. It slowed them down and took out a chunk of them, but Aragorn is going to need our help."

"You mean we have to go all the way back to Minas Tirith?" Gabrielle asked. "Just when we were making progress."

She paused. "We were making progress, right?"

Tyrion smiled and pointed at Gabrielle. "That is a very good question."

All eyes turned to look at him.

"Are we?" He looked at them all and shrugged.

"Are we what?" Mavon asked.

Tyrion bent and rolled the unconscious prisoner over. "What's missing?"

Silas was the first to get it. "No package."

"Right," Tyrion nodded. "No crown. Once again, the object of our little quest is conveniently missing."

He fastened plastic binders on the prisoner's ankles and wrists. "And he was supposed to be the one who had it. Everything we had said that this jamoke here had what we were looking for, right?"

All around him, everyone nodded.

"Look at everything that's happened since we bounced onto this rock," Tyrion went on as he methodically searched the man. "We've been running around like our heads are on fire and our asses are catching, with barely any time to think. Xe said it best when we caught that fake, Allistar, back at Edoras. Always 'go go go' without any time to really think about the overall strategy."

"What strategy," Felix scoffed. Then he paused and his expression also became contemplative.

"Our drivers need a destination, boss," Mavon said.

Tyrion looked over at Legolas and Gimli.

"Any place on the west side of the mountains where we might set down for a spell?"

"There's Rivendell," a strange voice said from near the corner of the ADV.

Instantly they all had turned, with weapons drawn

"Master Pippin?" Legolas said in surprise as he loosened his hold on his bow.

Xena stepped back towards the rear of the compartment and saw the second Hobbit, hiding behind the first.

"And Merry," she said, gesturing for them to come fully out.

"What the hell are you two doing in here?" Silas demanded.

The two hobbits exchanged nervous looks.

"It's like this," Merry stammered.

"You need someone with royal connections if you're going to be this far away from Minas Tirith," Pippin said with sudden earnest.

"Right!" Merry agreed quickly. "And we are well known in this part of Middle Earth."

"People from The Gray Havens to Bree know us and know about our relationship with the king," Pippin nodded, more confidently. "If you need anything, all we have to do is say the word, and you'll have it."

"Just one word," Merry agreed.

"Really," Tyrion stepped forward and knelt before the two of them. "You're known all over this part of the country?"

The two nodded.

"And because you two are so popular," Tyrion finished. "You've spent how many years on the other side of the kingdom?"

"Well," Pippin began and then he frowned.

"That's what I thought," Tyrion nodded. He turned back to the others.

"The hobbit's suggestion is sound," Legolas offered. "Rivendell is on the western side of the Misty Mountains, sheltered, and will offer us the seclusion and time we need to rest and take council."

Tyrion nodded. "Get us there."

He looked at Felix and smiled knowingly. "Well? What's on your mind, Doc?""

"Diversions," Felix said simply. "We make progress towards a goal and something is set up to divert us away or slow us down, constantly challenging us with new and exciting ways to get killed!"

"Exactly!" Tyrion nodded. "And because we've been so busy running around like lunatics, we haven't seen it."

"And then we learnt hat the one thing we were sent to retrieve, itself was a diversion," Gabrielle snapped her fingers. "If Allistar is actually one of those Geasians, he could simply snap his fingers and the crown would be wherever he wanted it. He just has this man and his party lead us on a wild goose chase."

Xena sighed. "It's the same strategy that he was using before we found him out. He just changed the approach."

"Now, then," Tyrion went on, nodding at Xena. "What was our initial plan?"

"Locate a hub that had the ability to send us all home." Mavon said.

"And according to what we know, the only place left on this rock that might have that kind of tech is this place, Angmar, right?" Tyrion nodded. He paused when he saw Felix beginning to pace.

"Doc?"

When the younger man said nothing, all eyes turned to lock on him.

"Doc?" Mavon repeated.

Felix held up a hand. "I'm cogitating."

"You what?" Silas asked.

Felix considered for a few more moments and then nodded, concluding his internal debate.

Then he looked up and his eyes traveled over the assembled group as if to confirm a notion.

"Why?" he asked.

"Why?" Xena replied. "What?"

"Like the chief said, we're running around like lunatics, some of us getting nicked off in the process, and no one has addressed they reason. Why?"

"Why are we getting killed?" Gabrielle asked.

"Why are we running around," Silas corrected.

Felix looked at them with an air of expectation. After several second he sighed. "Am I the only one who thinks like this, really? Come on guys, put it together."

He was rewarded with a series of blank looks and a few shrugs.

"It's an experiment in eugenics!" He blurted suddenly.

"What?" Xena asked. "What are you talking about?"

"Everything," Felix replied excitedly. "I'm talking about everything. This whole mixed up, cluster fuck of a world and all the happy bullshit in it! Dammit! Why didn't I see it all before? All the running around, the tactics, the logic problems, adapting our tactics and even our cultural variances. It all fits into the greater equation!"

Gabrielle put her hands on his shoulders. "Felix, slow down."

He turned back and took several deep breaths.

"On one side, brute force and ignorance, and on the other, logic and intelligence." Felix began. "With the martial aspects of the latter culture a direct response to a hostile disposition of the former, okay?"

"Okay, Doc," Tyrion said. "We were talking about our situation. Where did this come from?"

"This has to do with our situation! Hell, it is our situation! It has everything to do with it!" Felix shot back. He took another deep breath and let it out in a puff of exasperation. "Just try and keep up, right?"

He glanced over at Gabrielle again. The bard held her hands up slightly and mouthed the word "slow" before she began to smile.

Felix stepped forward. "The conflicts on this planet are established at regular times in order to weed out excessive variables and reduce the number of subjects to the ones considered most viable, okay? Then the process is repeated. It's like growing and then purifying genetic material, only on a planetary scale, and considering who's running the experiment, a planet as a Petri dish actually makes sense."

"I'm glad it makes sense to one of us," Gabrielle smiled. "What's a Petri dish?"

Felix looked at her sharply and then smiled when he saw her stern expression.

"How does this figure into our current situation, Doc?" Tyrion asked. "In small words, please."

"Alright," Felix explained. "Remember my little dissertation a while back? I mentioned that evolution of certain sentient beings had reached a plateau and new material was needed, right?"

"I remember," Xena nodded.

"Well, that's us!" Felix continued. "Us, the Kajano, the refugees from Antilles - we're the infusion of new variables that the system was looking for!"

"Which means what, exactly?" Mavon asked impatiently.

"All of our experience," Felix continued. "Our tactics, survivability, the weapons we use, hell, even Gabby's meltdown,"

"Thanks for reminding me," Gabrielle frowned.

Felix turned to her, his entire face an apology. "It wasn't your fault, Gabs. You know that. In point of fact, if I'm right-"

"And he usually is," Silas interjected.

Felix fixed him with a dark glance. "If I'm right, then Nicky may not have been responsible for what happened to Gabby either! Gabby may not have taken the info from Nicky in the first place!"

Tyrion and Xena both perked up.

"Explain," Tyrion said simply.

"It was the system," Felix said pointedly. "Think of it as another adaptability test, if you like. Take the most primitive one in the group, no offense," he glanced quickly at the young bard.

"Oh, none taken," she shot back sarcastically. "You'll pay later."

Felix smiled. "Take her. The one that is the most passive, most compassionate, the most likely to freak out, and plug in the abilities of you, or I, or in Gabby's case, Nicky, and then turn that person loose with a mission – better yet, a suicide mission, which is what you were on Gabs, lets face it."

"You're starting to drift off course, Doc," Tyrion cautioned.

"They were experiments in adaptability, Chief," Felix repeated. "Can what we bring be programmed into what they have? And the answer is definitely 'yes'!"

"So this all means what exactly?" Silas asked.

"I don't think we've seen the final product yet," Felix surmised.

"What final product?" Tyrion asked.

Felix rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Everything we've said and done since we got here has been recorded, right?" He instinctively reached for the red crystal he no longer carried. "Us, the Kaj, all with crystal recording devices…"

He stopped when Gabrielle handed hers to him.

"Now, we thought these little beggars were a gift for our benefit," he smiled, holding it up for them all to see. "If we buy it, then there's a chance we can come back. It was like a single-shot reset button for us. Since we only saw the positive application, we never questioned it, hell, I even organized them to optimize their functionality!"

"A security blanket," Tyrion nodded.

"If you like," Felix nodded. He turned to Xena and Gabrielle. "How many chances have you taken that you normally wouldn't have?"

Xena stood up from the side of the ADV as the realization sunk in.

"What about the rest of us?" He went on looking at each of them in turn. "Each and every one of us has been playing it fast and loose since we found out about these little doodads because we knew we could get a free pass if we bought it. We thought of it as a gift for us, but in reality, we've been giving the bad guys detailed information on just how good we are!" Felix's voice began to rise as his bits of information began to form a more coherent image.

"The baseline is established in a way that shows how far we will go if we have nothing to lose, which we didn't at the time, because we each had one opportunity to come back. Once they have that, they know our upper limit and can plan for actions somewhere beyond it!"

"Putting impossible barriers in front of us to keep us from doing what we need to do," Mavon nodded. His expression became more considerate. "If that's the case, then we should be able to manipulate the intel, now that we know this, right?"

As if in answer to his statement, the crystal in Felix's hand began to grow dark until it had changed into a shining black lump.

"Nope," Felix replied. "We just lost our one shots folks."

Everyone drew out their crystals and saw that all of them had clouded to opacity.

"Welcome back to the world of mere mortals," Felix sighed.

Mavon touched his earpiece as the ship began dropping from the sky.

"We're on final to Rivendell. Just looking for a place to set down."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Nicolla and Marton each looked down at the landscape below as the two Suko Dropships circled the small cluster of abandoned structures nestled in the deep valley.

"I can't see anyplace good," Marton called. "You?"

Nicolla's eyes fixed on a low area near what appeared to be the main building. At its northern end was a narrow shelf, green and overgrown, but just large enough for the two ships to land side by side if they were careful.

"I think I got something," she reported. "Follow me in."

"Roger that," Marton acknowledged.

The two vessels slowed to a hover and then edged forward until the landing skids were over the yard, then the two set down.

"Don't like parking with my ass hanging out over the back of beyond," Marton said as he looked across at Nicolla's ship.

"Best we're going to do for now," Nicolla replied. "Shut down and unbutton, let's have a look around."

The hydraulics hissed loudly in the cargo hold and the entire floor slowly lowered to the grass below. Brilliant orange sunlight flooded the hold.  
"It's the small garden by Elrond's home," Merry exclaimed as his eyes adjusted to the brilliance. "Right by where we first found Bilbo, remember?"

Pippin nodded, grinning.

The second ship also lowered its loading ramp and people began to emerge. A single figure jogged over to their ship and up the ramp.

"Afternoon folks," he greeted before he slid into the ADV.

The turbines rumbled to life and the big vehicle coasted slowly out onto the lawn.

A second vehicle also emerged from the other vessel.

"Hell of an outfit you got here," Tyrion said as the pilot came through the hatch.

The pilot introduced himself and shook Tyrion's hand. "Our boss knows the meaning of power shopping, that's for sure."

They stepped onto the lawn and the two groups approached one another.

"Who's your boss?" Tyrion asked their pilot. His voice fell away as Nicolla stepped into view, her red hair shimmering in the sunlight, a flight helmet held casually in one hand. Her green eyes fixed on him and she froze. Then her gaze darkened to something almost fierce and she began stalking towards him with long, purposeful strides.

"Son of a…" Tyrion gasped

"Ah shit," Mavon sighed, moving a few step further back behind Tyrion. "She looks pissed, Chief."

"What the hell did you do and how did she find out about it so fast?" Felix also stepped a few paces away.

"Tyrion!" Nicolla barked angrily. The flight helmet dropped to the ground as she reached him.

"Nicky?" Tyrion managed to say, uncertain. "How did you…"

In a moment, her hand had grasped the back of his neck and before he could do anything, their lips crashed together.

Tyrion stiffened in surprise at the sudden, passionate contact and then relaxed into it as he gave in to all the urges he had been suppressing and held her to him out of reflex.

"God damn," Silas murmured as he watched the prolonged moment.

"Well," Felix smiled. "No one saw that coming."

Beside him, Xena smiled and Gabrielle was grinning as she leaned up and rested her chin against Felix's shoulder.

"I did," Gabrielle looked over at Xena and smiled.

"Why can't I ever get a greeting like that?" Mavon complained as Mileasha walked past him. She was trying to hide her own grin as she rejoined the rest of the group and Mavon noticed the twins for the first time.

A soft longing moan escaped him.

Silas looked from Tyrion, to Mavon, to the two blond women and back to Mavon. "You're kidding, right?"

Felix tore his eyes away from Tyrion and Nicolla and also noticed the two ladies. They were engaged in a quick conversation, the one from their flight looked back gave him a subtle smile while her twin just glared at them.

A snort escaped him before he could prevent it and he smacked Mavon on the shoulder. "Dream on, buddy."

Nicolla and Tyrion parted and it took a few moments for the big man to recover as Nicolla's finger appeared before his nose. "You owe me so big, Darquefyre, you understand that?"

"And that greeting was?" Tyrion replied breathlessly.

Nicolla smiled. "A down payment."

Nicolla led Tyrion to the other group and made the introductions. Tyrion, likewise, introduced the rest of his team.

He paused when he saw Dade. He smiled broadly and clasped the man's hand in a firm, friendly grip.

"What the hell," he said. "She roped you into this, how?"

"It's complicated," Dade replied. "She managed to talk my employer into giving her the store."

"And your employer would be?" Tyrion asked.

"Marcolus Gaw." Dade nodded. "All of us work for him."

Silas looked at Nicolla with new respect. "You did a deal with Marcolus Gaw? For all this?"

Nicolla shrugged, blushing.

"Nicolla's still quite a fast talker," Hoskins offered. "And I had a group set up before hand, just in case, so, here we are."

Tyrion's jovial expression melted away when he saw Hoskins. He extended his hand and Hoskins returned in kind, though the handshake was far less friendly than the one before.

"Chief," Hoskins nodded.

"Hoss," Tyrion replied.

"And what are you doing here?" a sharp female voice demanded from off to one side.

In an instant, sixteen high tech weapons turned, rose, and pointed at the source of the query.

The figure standing at the edge of the walk, just within one of the archways, was short, no more than three feet tall. Behind her were several other figures of similar height and build, with small bows drawn.

She wore simple traveling garments that had the look of having been well used, and at her waist, she wore a short sword in a battered leather scabbard.

"Elanor?" Merry said in amazement. "Elanor Gamgee, is that you?"

The small woman's stern expression softened somewhat as she looked at the two hobbits with the strangers.

"Uncle Merry? Uncle Pippin?" She asked. "What are you doing here?"

Elanor motioned for her people to lower their weapons as Merry stepped forward to greet the young hobbit. Pippin turned back to Tyrion.

"See," he said. "If we were not here to take charge of the situation, it could have gone very badly for you here."

He turned and followed Merry.

Mavon suppressed a snort. "Bad for us?"

Merry and Pippin had a short conversation with the newcomer before she seemed to relax a bit. Her companions lowered their weapons.

Then Pippin gestured to Tyrion before leading the young hobbit towards the party.

She was a bit shorter than Pippin, standing barely three feet, with long sandy colored hair that fell past her shoulders in waves of curls, framing a face that was unusually attractive for the diminutive and otherwise round faced hobbits.

Her eyes were a piercing blue and seemed to take the measure of everything. There was no question as to who was the person in charge of this little party.

"Master Tyrion," Merry offered. "This is Elanor Gamgee, daughter of our good friend, Sam Gamgee. Elanor, this is Master Tyrion."

"Miss," Tyrion nodded, suppressing a smile.

She looked up and met his gaze with a severe one of her own, showing no sign of being intimidated.

"Master Tyrion," she replied. "Just what do you think," she was cut off by Dade.

"Where do you want all our equipment, Tyrion?"

Tyrion looked up and spied an archway that seemed just large enough to allow the passage of the ADV's.

"Pull the vehicles through there and we'll see what we got!" he pointed.

"Hold on one moment, Mister Tyrion," Elanor said sharply. Then she turned and shouted at Dade in a shrill voice. "Don't move anything!"

Her voice cut through the commotion like a bell and all eyes turned to focus on her.

"Nobody is doing anything here until I have a word with you," she turned back and jabbed a finger at Tyrion. "Do you have any idea what you've done here?"

"Landed?" Felix replied, stepping up next to Tyrion.

"You've parked your, your, things in Elrond's private garden!" Elanor gesticulated angrily. "That's what you've done! And the wind storm you blew up when you did it broke half a dozen priceless statues that used to line that garden path, there!" she pointed off to one side nearby where the remains of several statues could be seen lying on an overgrown walkway.

"Now, before you go tromping about and breaking everything else, I want to know why you're here and what you plan to do." Elanor placed her hands on her hips. "Because you are certainly not going to be looting anything from this place if I have anything to say about it, understand?"

Tyrion smiled, trying to appear disarming. "I'm afraid you have the wrong idea. We aren't here to loot anything."

"Really?" Elanor raised an eyebrow.

"Elanor," Merry interjected. "These people have the King's favor, you understand."

"Besides," Pippin added. "We know them, and they are trustworthy."

"Really?" Elanor repeated, unconvinced. "Well, then tell me what you're doing here?"

"I'd love to," Tyrion laughed. "If you'd give me a chance."

She looked back up at him darkly. "Well?"

Tyrion looked back at the others, some of them trying to conceal smiles.

"Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked Elanor.

She took his measure for a moment longer and then nodded, indicating a nearby entrance arch.

Then she looked back at the others. "Nobody moves anything, right?" she ordered.

She turned and walked off towards the nearby building.

"Good luck, chief," Mavon snickered while Felix made some form of gesture indicative of a religious blessing.

"Just," Tyrion sighed. "Nobody do anything for the moment."

He turned and followed the hobbit.

Felix turned and leaned against Mavon's shoulder. "Now that was funny!" he chuckled.

"Little spitfire scares me," Silas added as Gabrielle and Xena laughed quietly.

Gabrielle looked over at the other contingent and saw similar expressions on their faces.

Tyrion passed the archway and entered a long, covered walkway extending the length of the building. Along the outer wall were several sets of tools, lying on the floor.

Elanor stopped several paces in and turned, looking at him expectantly.

Tyrion found an old stone bench and sat, bringing his face more to her altitude.

"Well?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"My friends and I are here because we need a place from which to stage an invasion," Tyrion said simply.

Some of the severity on Elanor's face vanished, replaced with surprise. "Invasion?"

"A place called Angmar," Tyrion nodded. "You know anything about it?"

"I may," she replied cautiously. "Why are you planning to invade it?"

"Because whoever is in charge there is currently marching an army towards Minas Tirith with the intention of destroying that city and everyone in it," Tyrion explained. Elanor opened her mouth to ask another question, but she was interrupted.

A middle aged hobbit, with thinning hair and an excited demeanor came running quickly into the walkway. "Miss Elanor! Miss Elanor!" he blurted. "It's amazing, truly amazing!"

She turned and fixed the hobbit with a stern stare.

"They have an elf with them, Miss Elanor!" he blurted. "An actual elf! We had all assumed that they had crossed the sea! We never anticipated that there might be one of the fair folk still here, in Middle Earth! It's extraordinary!"

Elanor looked from Tyrion to her associate and back again.

"Legolas actually suggested we come here," Tyrion rubbed his chin.

"Legolas?" Elanor looked at Tyrion in shock. "Son of Thengel, King of Mirkwood?"

"Well, I don't know about any of that," Tyrion admitted. Then he sighed. "Look. We aren't here to take over and we sure aren't here to loot the place. We need a place to set up camp and organize. That's all."

"That's all?" Elanor asked.

"Scouts honor," Tyrion replied. Then he eyed her closely. "Now then, why are you here?"

"Miss Elanor?" The middle aged hobbit asked excitedly.

"Yes, Odo," she shot back. "You can talk to the elf."

"Thank you Miss Elanor," he gushed, and he turned and scampered back towards the garden.

Tyrion leaned back against the stone railing and folded his arms. "Well?"

"We came here from the Shire this past autumn," Elanor admitted. "I managed to convince some people to come with me to record what little we could of Elrond's house before it was gone forever."

"So, you're an archeological team?"

She frowned at the term. "We came out here to preserve and protect what remained of this place and the people who built it, if that's what you mean."

Tyrion nodded. He looked about them at the fine structure. "You certainly have quite a project on your hands."

"And your bumbling about won't help," Elanor shot back. "Who knows what you'll destroy?"

Tyrion sighed. "Look, you may as well understand that we are here, and we aren't going anywhere. That's the bottom line."

Elanor opened her mouth to protest but Tyrion held up a hand.

"Now, I will tell my people not to disturb anything you are working on, but there are a few things I am going to need."

"Such as?" Elanor asked, suspicious.

"I need a place to stage my equipment, set up my command post and house my people," Tyrion recited. "If there are areas that you have already finished your surveys then I would like to make use of them, where possible. I promise that we will exercise the utmost care while here, and I'll order my people to stay out of your areas without an escort that you would provide."

Elanor considered that for a moment.

"Very well," she finally nodded.

"By the same token," Tyrion added. "The areas we occupy, especially where our equipment will be housed, will be off limits and none of your people will be permitted to wander about without an escort that I will provide, fair enough?"

"You'll keep from damaging the structures and items here?" Elanor asked.

"I'll do my best to minimize them. That's the best I can offer," Tyrion replied honestly. "And if any of my people discover something that may be important to your work, we will notify you first before we do anything else."

She paced a few steps away, pondering the arrangement. Then she turned and offered a non committal shrug.

"How many people and how much equipment?" she asked.

Tyrion laughed. "In other words, 'how many square feet do I need?'"

Elanor smiled slightly and nodded.

"That's a very good question, actually," Tyrion admitted. He turned and looked back at the two dropships perched precariously on the garden ledge.

"Well, first off," he pointed at the vehicles. "Is there a place that is safer for me to park those, with access to a main gate for the ground vehicles?"

She nodded. "The main entrance courtyard on the west end of the house should be large enough. It's terribly overgrown and none of us were able to clear much of the growth away." Her eyes considered the large wheeled transport sitting in front of the ship. "Your carriages should fit through the gate."

Tyrion rose to his feet and nodded. "Let's take a look." He clicked his com. "Hey Si, I need you and Dade to meet me on the west side of the complex."

Elanor turned and bellowed. A few moments later, the elderly hobbit who had approached them before and a younger one came jogging around the corner.

"Come with me to the main courtyard," Elanor ordered.

The six of them met in a wide, shaded court that formed a flat, groomed surface between the front entrance of the main house and a protective wall. Looking up, Silas, Tyrion and Dade saw the massive overhanging, and intertwining branches of the trees blocking the sun.

"That's quite a bit of growth for only a couple decades," Dade mused. "Almost as if they wanted to erase this place."

"Can we clear the overgrowth enough for the Sukos?" Tyrion asked.

Silas's gaze made a slow circuit of the courtyard, his eyes fixed on the overhanging boughs.

"I think we can, Chief," he nodded. "Might even be able to camouflage it so that it looks like we ain't done nothing too."

"It would be a big job," Dade added, conducting his own inspection. "I'm afraid Nicolla outfitted us for a fight, not horticulture."

"We have tools," The younger hobbit offered.

"Is there a room nearby for storing our gear, and housing for my people?" Tyrion asked.

Elanor nodded and gestured to the entrance of the main building.

She led the team into the structure. The solid doors opened onto a short, wide hall with a single chamber on either side. The entrance hall passed through an ornate archway which led into a larger room at the opposite end. That last room's entrance was framed on either side by two ornate stairways leading to the second level of the building.

"We have already explored the lower floor of this building," Elanor offered. "You could use these three rooms."

The room to the left looked as if it had been used as some kind of private study. Rows of shelves were built into the walls and several old, dusty desks and chairs rested near the shelves. There were even a few discarded books.

The room opposite had several open windows that led to the covered porch and a path that wound its way into an overgrown garden, bordered by a small, bubbling stream.

The third and largest of the rooms was dominated in the center by a circular fire pit. The ceiling was open in the center, revealing blue sky above.

Tyrion considered for a moment and then pointed.

"We'll use the first room for equipment housing, the second for personnel, and this will be C&C."

"Works for me," Silas nodded.

"Split the crew," Tyrion continued. "Half to unload the gear, the other half to work on clearing the overgrowth so we can land the Suko's in here."

"Right."

Tyrion looked down at Elanor and smiled. "Have the tree detail report to Miss Elanor for their duties, please."

"Yes, sir," Dade replied. He stepped away and keyed his com.

What was an impossible task for the ground bound hobbits turned out to be easy work for Tyrion's people. It took the better part of a day, but as the sun set, the two dropships settled slowly down into the courtyard and deployed their accompanying vehicles.

At the same time, several of the hobbits assisted in setting up the room where Tyrion's people would be billeted.

By the time everyone settled down for the evening meal, the task was complete.

Meals were taken in a common room on the second floor. The room itself served as the unofficial boundary between the 'Halfers', as Tyrion's people had nicknamed the hobbits, and the 'Big Folk' as the hobbits had likewise labeled Tyrion's group.

Of the hobbits, only Elanor, Merry, and Pippin had free reign to wander between camps, While Tyrion, Dade and Xena had the same privileges for their party.

It was an amicable arrangement that kept everyone happy and meant that each group was able to go about their business with minimal disruption.

Two days after their arrival, Tyrion began planning in earnest.

He slowly paced around the small table, strewn with maps and readouts from the two ships while the others watched.

"Right," he mused. "We need recon of the target and an update on enemy movement in the southeast." He nodded to Marton, leaning against the wall nearby.

"Beck," he instructed. "Take your ship northwest towards where we think the target is, based on Miss Gamgee's Intel. Give me a flash pass and RTB."

"Got it," Beck nodded.

"Doc," Tyrion continued as Nicolla leaned forward expectantly. "Take the other Suko and head south, following the mountains toward Isengard. We'll run a coms net from here to Korbal. Once that is done, head back north and west and see if you can do some recon. Spot the enemy troops moving in that region and report that back to Korbal and Aragorn. I need to know what our window of opportunity is for an assault on Angmar, or if we'll have to back track to assist Minas Tirith."

"Yeah," Felix replied, a little surprised. "Sure, no problem."

Nicolla also opened her mouth to speak, but restrained herself.

"Once that's done, we can start putting a plan together," Tyrion concluded. "Dismissed."

They all filed out of the room until only Nicolla was left.

"That's all it took?" she asked archly. "One kiss and now you won't let me do what I do best?"

"I don't know what you mean," Tyrion replied.

"The hell you don't!" Nicolla growled. She stepped away from the wall and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You know I'm the better pilot and you deliberately gave my ship to Felix! You sent Marton flying recon in an unknown land even though I've been on this world for months!"

"I really don't have time for this," Tyrion turned away towards the operations console, but Nicolla caught his arm and spun him back.

"Then make the time!" she shot back.

Something in the vehemence of her voice made him stop short. He turned and looked back at her.

She stepped forward, her eyes boring into his. "My ships, my gear, _my _crew!" she all but hissed at him. "I came back to get all of us out, not hand over everything to you when I arrived!"

"This could be a conflict in command," Tyrion folded his arms across his chest. "You know what happens when there are too many chefs in the kitchen?"

"Yeah," she retorted. "The one most distracted gets his ass kicked!"

He raised an eyebrow. "Felix negotiated with the Kajano before. He can get Korbal and his people to come in and help us back King Aragorn up."

"And I managed to negotiate with the command officer of a three frigate assault group!" Nicolla shot back. "So what does that make me, chopped fleel?"

Tyrion opened his mouth to speak but Nicolla held a finger up before his eyes.

"I'm flying the mission," she stated. "Not because I want it, or because I'm more or less important to this mission, but because I'm the most qualified flight officer to do it, period."

Tyrion's mouth worked into a smile that mixed amusement and defeat in equal measure.

"I guess you are," he finally relented.

She stepped forward and took a handful of the front of his jacket.

"If you think, for one minute, that by excluding me, you're protecting me from anything," she growled. "Think again. I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself."

She jerked him forward roughly and kissed him with a passion that was almost cruel.

"Hey chief, I'm not sure about me piloting this mission," a voice interrupted.

They broke their kiss and looked over to see Felix standing near the entrance, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Okay," he said. "Awkward moment."

Nicolla and Tyrion smiled.

"It's okay, Doc," Tyrion nodded. "She's already convinced me to let her fly the mission."

Felix backed out of the room. "Yeah, sure. Better her than me," he cleared his throat. "Going away now."

He turned and stepped quickly through the door.

Nicolla stepped away from Tyrion and closed the double doors to the chamber, turned and leaned against them, her eyes fixed on Tyrion.

"What are you doing?" Tyrion asked.

The intent was plainly evident in her gaze. Her hand slid the locking bolt in place and then she moved toward him purposefully.

"Something I should have done a long, long time ago," she replied with a seductive smile.

As the ones unfamiliar with the equipment that Nicolla had provided, Xena, Gabrielle, Legolas, and Gimli were effectively left out of the organization. Instead, they found themselves on the balcony of an adjacent building, overlooking the activity below as members of Tyrion's team moved about. Some of them worked among the branches of the trees while others moved and organized the various crates and components from the vehicles in the garden to the main structure.

Occasionally a voice would call out warning from the boughs and then a large limb would come crashing to the stones below. It was immediately collected by a group of the hobbits and taken aside to be chopped into firewood.

As Xena watched the movement, her eyes constantly drifted between the two largest figures, Silas, and the newcomer, Hoskins.

Both men were huge in comparison to the next largest figures, and both of them had an air of authority that she had often seen in subordinates of her armies. The ones who were just shy of being officers, but with the wit and experience to hold the position, should it become available.

While both men were largely and powerfully built, Silas was noticeably more massive than his contemporary. Should the two engage in conflict, the winner could not be readily discerned.

What held her attention to them was the fact that such a contest seemed to be nearing, despite the two men's attempt to isolate themselves from each other.

What was odd was that, unlike Silas's demeanor, which was like watching a thundercloud gathering strength before the storm, Hoskins bearing was more neutral, almost resigned. It was as if he had known this encounter would lead to some inevitable confrontation, and he was simply going about his business, waiting for the moment to present itself.

"I wonder what's going on with you?" she murmured aloud, her eyes narrowing as she studied Hoskins more closely for any other clues as to his resignation.

"With whom?" Legolas asked.

Xena blinked. She had forgotten that the elf's hearing was unnaturally acute.

"Sorry, just watching," she nodded towards the activity.

"The one called Hoskins Blaine?" Legolas offered a soft smile.

Gabrielle looked from one to the other. "Okay, what have I missed?"

"It would seem that I am not the only one who takes the measure of a person from a distance," Legolas's smile widened slightly.

"I don't trust him," Xena admitted.

At that pronouncement, the elf frowned. "You do not?"

He looked down at the man again and his thoughtfulness increased. "Then I have seen something that is not there, or you have misperceived something, I fear."

"Such as?" Gabrielle asked.

Legolas fixed his eyes on the newcomer again and considered. "When I look at him, I do not see a dishonest man. Rather, I see a man burdened."

Both Xena and Gabrielle looked at Hoskins again.

Gabrielle squinted as if the additional focus would bring to light some hidden secret that the elf had managed to glean from the massive soldier.

Legolas continued. "Whatever the point of contention is between our two friends," he said, indicating Silas. "I do not think it shall remain unresolved for much longer. Each wishes to address the past. Neither has found the correct moment yet, however."

The two women turned their gaze upon Legolas, their eyes filled with questions.

Gimli snorted when he saw it. "Don't even try and worm it out, ladies," he said as he turned away. "He's an elf. They are a strange and annoyingly insightful breed of creature."

Legolas looked back at his friend and smiled. "I thank you for the compliment, friend." The dwarf grunted a retort in his own language as he vanished into the building.

A few moments later, Nicolla's head appeared near the stairwell.

"Hey Gabby?" she asked. "You up for a flight?"

Xena and Gabrielle exchanged a glance. The desire in Gabrielle's expression was plain.

"Sure, if you think I can help?" Gabrielle replied, grinning.

"Grab what you need and meet me by the ship in five minutes," Nicolla nodded and vanished.

Gabrielle turned to depart, paused, and turned back.

"Xena?" she asked. "You're not feeling left out, are you?"

"What?" Xena lied. "No, not at all. You go ahead. I'll see you when you get back."

Not entirely convinced, Gabrielle nodded and withdrew.

A short time later, the howl of engines echoed through the valley and the two ships arced away on their respective missions.

Gabrielle sat in the extra jump seat on the flight deck, her eyes constantly drifting to the pasty skinned figure seated behind the navigator's console.

"Coms pods are activated and ready to drop, Miss," he said in that perfectly respectful cadence. "We are nearly to the first drop point. Thirty seconds."

"Right," Nicolla replied.

Gabrielle saw the pilot's white helmet swivel from one side and then the other. "I have a flat peak, two kliks, at ten o'clock. What do you think?"

The one called Jeeves looked in the indicated direction and considered for a moment. "I believe that will do nicely, Miss."

The ship heeled over slightly and slowed, hovering over the small flat patch at the top of the mountain.

"Now, Miss," Jeeves said calmly. There was a subtle noise in the floor and then Nicolla let the ship drift back.

They watched as the long, antenna-like object wavered slightly in the backwash. Then there was a soft puff at its base and it firmed up.

"Anchor deployed. Imbedded to a depth of zero, point, three meters," Jeeves reported. "It is secure and transmitting normally."

"Okay," Nicolla turned the ship away from the array. "Next stop?"

Jeeves consulted his screen.

"Set course one, seven, nine. We should find a suitable location before we reach the southern tip of these mountains." Jeeves instructed.

"We can drop in and see Korbal before we reach Edoras, too." Nicolla smiled.

Gabrielle looked out at the mountain peaks flying past them. In spite of her exhilaration at flying again, she found herself continually looking back at Jeeves with a growing sense concern. There was something decidedly uneasy about the man's appearance. It was almost as if he were not quite human.

When he looked back at her with his glassy eyes, she suddenly realized what it was that disturbed her. If the eyes were the windows to the soul, and that was what Gabrielle believed, then she should have been able to catch a hint of the soul that burned within. Even when Felix had been wearing the prosthetic eyes, she was able to perceive this. Now, however, under Jeeves's cold returning stare, she could see and sense nothing. The glassy eyes were the eyes of a dead thing, or, at least, a thing that held no internal life of its own.

"May I help you, Miss?" Jeeves asked calmly.

Gabrielle's breath caught in her throat, and her sense of dread magnified somewhat.

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I was just, I mean, it's, um, well?"

Ahead of them, Nicolla laughed.

"You'll have to excuse Gabrielle, Jeeves," she offered. "Someone like you is a little outside her window of experience."

"Indeed?" Jeeves replied, his eyebrows arching in an expression of calm amusement. "How very interesting?"

Gabrielle was still struggling to find her voice. "You're not entirely, um,"

"Human?" Jeeves offered calmly.

"Alive?" Gabrielle finished at the same moment.

"Ah, that," Jeeves checked his screen quickly and then sat back with a thoughtful expression. "That is a very interesting observation, Miss."

"If by 'alive' you mean to ask if I am a living organism, in the strictest sense of the word, I would have to say no," he offered. "However, that definition has become far less certain since the development of artificial intelligence with humanoid –like psyches"

"It has?" Gabrielle gulped.

"Indeed," Jeeves replied. "Speaking from a purely scientific perspective, I am not alive in the sense that my normal functionality is synthetic, as opposed to organic. However, my primary synthetic functions were designed to mimic your organic structure and function."

"Oh," Gabrielle stammered, completely lost.

"I myself am more comfortable with the definition broached by the philosophical master, Asindia, who stated "Cognitus Unas Sumatoria" – The individual is alive. " He smiled. "I think independently, I am able to reason, I can recognize my own mortality, as it were, since it is possible for me to be destroyed like any other organic creature, and I am able to empathize with other individuals and form my own opinions on subjective matters, when I wish."

"And he's long winded," Nicolla put in.

"I merely seek to give the young lady all the pertinent information," Jeeves replied easily. "That way, she may make an unbiased and informed decision."

"Unbiased?" Nicolla laughed. "You sound like the spokesperson for Synthoid Rights."

Gabrielle frowned. "Synthoid?"

"A rather nasty name for my kind," Jeeves GAVE THE BACK OF Nicolla's flight helmet a frosty look. "It means 'Synthetic Humanoid', though I believe the designation to be inaccurate, since all manner of life forms can be synthesized."

"Synthetic?" Gabrielle repeated.

Jeeves merely nodded agreeably and offered a disarming smile. "I was created in a manufacturing facility, not birthed as you were, you understand? My primary function was to serve as an assistant to some high ranking executive in one of the larger planetary corporations. Unfortunately - or fortunately, depending on your point of view - I found myself in a shipment of material that was acquired by Marcolous Gaw and I became his quartermaster – so to speak."

"But you weren't designed for that?" Gabrielle asked, now more intrigued and revolted.

"My initial programming was not designed with nefarious dealings in mind, no," Jeeves nodded. "But, despite the ill reputation of Master Gaw's business dealings, his organization is still a business, and the basic principles of my programs did apply. I merely adapted them to suit my current situation. After that, I began to familiarize myself with all aspects of his business, again, as my protocols dictated."

"And that's how you wound up knowing too much," Nicolla added.

"A quality that, it would seem, Master Gaw did not appreciate." Jeeves sighed. His eyes quickly scanned the information on the small console before him. "You may wish to start looking for a good spot, Miss."

For the next several hours they continued, following the Misty Mountains south towards Isengard and Rohan.

During that time, as Gabrielle learned more about him, she began to lose her sense of foreboding where the Synthoid was concerned.

"Pardon me, Miss," Jeeves said suddenly. "I have a contact bearing one, seven, nine, at twelve thousand feet, closing rapidly."

"Probably one of the Kajano Frigates," Nicolla replied. She activated her communications channel.

"Kajano vessel, this is Recon Flight One, requesting permission to approach, over," she called.

After several seconds of silence she keyed the system again.

"Kajano vessel, this is Recon Flight One, transmitting on wavelength nine, two, decimal, three, three, seven, do you receive, over?"

At the same time, she began powering down various systems, reducing the threat level that the big ship would undoubtedly detect.

"Kajano Vessel," Nicolla tried again. "This is Recon Flight One, requesting approach vector and permission to land at your stronghold, please respond?"

A few more moments and the channel crackled. At the same time, Nicolla felt the familiar tickle in her mind. While the harsh language was unintelligible, the meaning in her mind was clear.

"_You may approach,"_ the alien mind granted.

Gabrielle's eyes widened in amazement as the deadly frigate came into view through the clouds. Dark and dagger-like as it coasted through the sky.

Nicolla switched frequencies and keyed the com again.

"Angel One to Valley View, come in?"

Instantly Tyrion's voice replied. "Valley View here, go ahead."

"Phase one complete, and we're at Big Brother's house. Door's open. Do you receive?"

"Understood Angel," Tyrion replied. "Be sure to invite him to dinner, out."

Nicolla smiled. "Understood. Out."

"What was that all about?" Gabrielle asked.

"Standard Procedures, Gabby," Nicolla replied. "When on contested ground, keep messages enigmatic and short."

"Well, that was definitely short," Gabrielle replied. "Not sure about being very enigmatic though. Besides, who could be listening? You are the only ones with the neat gadgets, right?"

"Gadgets, Miss?" Jeeves looked sidelong at her with a bemused expression.

"You sure about that, Gabby?" Nicolla asked.

"Sure," She replied immediately. Then she paused. "I mean, well…"

"Exactly," Nicolla finished.

They passed beneath the massive frigate and continued over a final series of peaks before the vast bowl shaped valley of Isengard came into view.

In the open areas around the towering spire of Orthanc, armor clad figures could be seen moving around, erecting various structures or patrolling different points along the outer wall.

A large flat circular area near the main tower began to glow with pale green light.

"I believe our landing area is prepared, Miss," Jeeves reported.

Despite the truce between the two races, Gabrielle still felt her heart beginning to thunder in fear as they dropped onto the landing pad.

Huge armored behemoths walked purposefully around the ship and every one of them was bristling with cruel looking weapons. The faceplates and manor of adornment varied from simple geometrical face plates to grotesque, almost demonic countenances.

As they walked slowly down the ramp, a familiar figure came towards them. In spite of the truce, the sight of Agran still filled Gabrielle with dread.

The big alien stopped and thumped his right fist against his chest in salute. He then nodded to Gabrielle and growled.

Unsure, Gabrielle returned the gesture.

Apparently pleased with her response, he then fixed his gaze on Nicolla and Jeeves.

With a gesture, he indicated the main entrance of Orthanc_. "Come."_

The trio followed Agran into the keep. The interior was still dark, only now, it was lit dimply by the glow of various instrument panels and amber glow rods imbedded into the stone walls.

They followed Agran through the ante chamber and into the main hall. One side of Saruman's old audience chamber had been converted into a huge rack of weapons and trophies. The throne had also been adorned and seated in that massive chair was Korbal, his red eyes gazing out, supervising the work.

When he saw the trio enter, he rose from the seat, and stepped down to meet them.

At the same time, a second creature detached itself from a nearby group and moved to stand beside the elder. His arm was no longer in the restrictive sling, though the pale bare flesh bore fresh scarring.

"Hello Thegar," Nicolla nodded. "Did your brother find you?"

As if in answer, the one Nicolla had met on the Arcum also stepped forward. With the two of them standing side by side, the familial link was even more apparent. They both had the same tint to their skin and similar mottling on their faces and head tendrils.

Thugal nodded in greeting.

Then Korbal's mind touched Nicolla's

"_Another reborn?"_ it inquired.

Nicolla smiled. "Long story. I have something to discuss with you, if I may?"

"_Speak,"_ Korbal growled.

Quickly, Nicolla brought the big alien up to speed and invited him to gather his forces for a mission to aid in the defense of Minas Tirith.

Marton's Suko settled to the ground, its engine howl dropped away, and the sandy haired descended the ramp holding a data chip triumphantly in one hand.

"One flash pass, as requested," he said simply, tossing the chip to Tyrion.

Behind him, Iesha seemed a lot less confident. "You sure know how to pick them, sir," she said as she strode past, heading towards the main house.

Tyrion looked down at the chip in his fingers. A hand fell on his shoulder and he turned to find Felix standing next to him.

"That sounded encouraging," He smiled.

Tyrion nodded and turned back to the main building.

In the large chamber that served as the command center, Tyrion placed the chip into the holographic reader and stared at the imposing edifice that materialized in front of him.

Felix let out a low whistle. "That's a hell of a fortress there, Chief," he said appreciatively.

Angmar was built directly into the sheer face of a mountain. The entire structure and the few surrounding buildings were constructed of thick dark stone with tall ramparts emerging from the bedrock to encircle the citadel perched on the edge of a deep valley. Upon the wide stone walls, sentries could be seen standing vigil or pacing along patrol routes. In the interior, movement was discernable, though the precise nature of the preparations could not be readily ascertained.

A single, wide stone bridge extended across the chasm to a road on the opposite side. The latter winded its way down deeper into the valley before vanishing at the edge of the scan.

On the opposite side of the semi transparent render, Tyrion saw Felix lay his head down on the table, looking up at the bridge.

"One way in, one way out," he mused. His index finger flicking to the near end of the bridge. "See the pilings at the extreme end of the support structures?"

Tyrion nodded.

"Think of them as quick release mechanisms," Felix said. "If trouble gets too intense, they just drop the bridge and cut off our access. Pretty elegant solution, if you ask me?"

"And a real pain in the ass for us," Tyrion sighed.

"That too," Felix grinned, rising to study another portion of the structure. He indicated two lines of fire, descending from twin towers on either side of a massive reinforced gate.

"In order to keep the bridge, we need to take it, but anyone attempting it in a traditional way will be under the line of fire from these archers, here, and here," he said. "And not much cover outside the wall either."

He indicated four figures standing in pairs at either side of the bridge, beyond the gate. "Looks like those clowns are responsible for dropping the bridge. Which means that we'd need to scratch them before we do anything."

Tyrion's eyes were locked on the display. "Felix?" he asked.

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Shut up and let me think," Tyrion sighed.

Felix raised an eyebrow and strode from the room. As he pulled the door open he discovered Xena, her hand reaching for the handle.

"Oh, hey there," he greeted. He bobbed his head in Tyrion's direction. "You may not want to talk to him right now. He's thinking."

He grinned as he stepped past her and continued down the hall.

Xena watched him go, a bemused smile on her face.

When she turned back towards the room, she saw Tyrion leaning against a table, his eyes focused on the slowly revolving image hovering over a strange console.

"I don't think I've ever seen that before," he said, indicating the holo-projector.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting depressed," Tyrion sighed. "What's up?"

"Any word from Nicolla or Gabrielle?" she inquired.

Tyrion shrugged. "Last call, they had managed to get the Kajano to head for Minas Tirith and help them with that army we flew over. She said she'd call again when they got to Aragorn's Palace."

Xena nodded and looked at the image of the fortress.

"This looks like a challenge," she commented.

"Please," Tyrion held a hand up. "I don't want another variation of Felix's commentary, okay?"

Xena offered a small smile. "I wasn't going to."

"I get the impression you don't think we can do this, though?" Xena asked, indicating the hologram.

Tyrion nodded. "Yup. And as long as that dampening field is active, our ships can't fly higher than forty thousand feet., which means we're just as stuck now, as we were before Nicky showed up with reinforcements."

"Do the others know?" Xena asked.

"Not yet," Tyrion replied.

The world coasted beneath them at a deceptively slow pace. Gabrielle understood it was because they were so high above it.

The Suko Dropship was flying near the maximum altitude before they would hit the dampening field. On either side of it coasted the bulk of two Kajano frigates, each holding almost three hundred of the predatory aliens.

The plan was simple. Locate the remainder of the force that had attacked Felix, Mavon, and Legolas, land a couple miles to the east, deploy the Kajano contingent, and then use her ship to wreak havoc on the marching horde until the big aliens began the slaughter.

As Nicolla stretched her mind out towards the ships, she could feel the hungry anticipation permeating the mood of the beings within those vessels.

"I could never get bored with traveling like this," Gabrielle said, grinning. Her comment snapped Nicolla back to the present and she suppressed a shudder.

"What's that?" Gabrielle continued, pointing out to a small darker area far off in the distance.

Nicolla looked and frowned. "Not sure. It's probably what's left of that army we buzzed a few days ago."

"How high up are we?" Gabrielle asked, squinting down at the mass.

"Thirty thousand feet, Miss," Jeeves replied dutifully.

Her mind tried to wrap itself around that as she gauged distance.

"That's an awful big area down there," she finally concluded. "Granted, I never saw what was left after you, you, um"

"Strafed them?" Nicolla offered.

"Yes," Gabrielle replied, not really sure what 'strafe' meant. "I guess."

Nicolla looked back towards the area and a thin needle of ice began poking into her belly.

"What can you see with the observation package, Jeeves?" she ordered.

"One moment, Miss," Jeeves replied as his fingers began moving quickly over the controls. "Live feed transferring to your console, Miss," he finished a few moments later.

Nicolla looked down at the monitor and the needle of ice spread out to engulf her.

"Great Maker," she breathed as she saw the countless creatures, marching rank and file. Helms shimmered in the fading sunlight and the tips of spears winked like tongues of flame.

Gabrielle leaned forward to look past the headrest of Nicolla's pilot couch and her mouth dropped open.

"That's not the group we hit," Nicolla stammered. "That's, that's,"

"Unbelievable," Gabrielle breathed. "There must be tens of thousands of them!"

"How the hell did we miss all of them?" Nicolla thought aloud.

"Computer estimates two hundred fifty thousand, plus or minus one thousand," Jeeves said.

Nicolla keyed her com. "Suko One to base, come in."

"Copy Suko One," Tyrion's voice replied a moment later. "I know you haven't reached Minas Tirith that quick."

"Affirmative," Nicolla replied. "I have a hostile force moving south east towards Minas Tirith, bigger than anything we've seen. Computer estimates strength at two-five-zero thousand, repeat, two-five-zero thousand. Please advise."

There was nothing for a few moments, then.

"Abort mission! Repeat, abort mission. Proceed to Minas Tirith."

"Confirmed," Nicolla replied. "Out."

She switched over to an alternate frequency and then keyed the com again.

"Suko One to Isengard, come in."

The channel hissed ominously.

"Suko One to Isengard," Nicolla repeated.

Then the chill, grating voice echoed from the speakers.

"_Speak."_

"Agran?" Nicolla asked.

"_Yes."_

"Inform Korbal immediately," Nicolla reported. "Enemy force is bigger than we thought. We are aborting our original mission and heading directly to Minas Tirith. He may want to send the third frigate and his reinforcements now."

"_He is with you,"_ Agran's voice grated.

Nicolla looked back as if she expected to see the Kajano leader standing on the outer hull of one of the ships.

"Okay, then," Nicolla considered. "You and whoever is left get on that last ship and head out after us. You don't want to miss this."

Again, silence lingered and then.

"_We come."_

Xena paced thoughtfully on the balcony, watching as the sun began moving towards the western horizon.

She sighed. She did feel left out. Each of Tyrion's people and now even the new comers under the command of the one called Dade were all busy with some task or another. Even Gabrielle was taking part, now hundreds of miles away, flying across the sky.

She marveled at that for a moment. Her best friend, soaring hundreds of leagues away in the time it would take to walk across a small village. Her otherworldly companions were all busy preparing this place to house them for what looked to be the foreseeable future. Even Legolas and Gimli were busy somewhere.

Once again, she was alone. The thoughts were self deprecating, she knew. It was a melancholy that began to border on self pity, born of the forced introspection that non-action tends to bring. She forced the self pity back into the shadows and took a deep breath.

"There you are," a voice said behind her. "I was wondering where you disappeared to."

She turned and saw Felix approaching. If the expression on the young man's face was any indication, he had mischief in mind.

"What is it Felix?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

He recoiled. "What? Always with that look whenever I need help?" he protested innocently, and then the smile reasserted itself for a moment before his face settled into more serious lines.

"Granted, this is might be considered something like that," he mused. Then he fixed her with the most sincere look she had yet seen. "Seriously though, we need to talk."

Something like molten lead solidified in her belly under his gaze. The two turned and vanished down a long unused garden path.

They talked for a short while, circling near the main house, where Tyrion has set up his command center.

The conversation was vague to the point that Xena began to lose patience.

She was on the verge of another protest when Felix raised a hand and took a step back, obscuring them both in the deeper foliage along the worn path.

"What in the world are you?" Xena began, but Felix put a finger to his lips and then pointed.

They both watched as Tyrion emerged from the house, wearing only his boots, pants and short sleeved shirt.

"He always likes to go for a run when he has thinking to do," Felix explained.

"Okay," Xena frowned. "So?"  
"Just a moment," Felix continued as Tyrion moved out beyond the wall and then turned and began a casual jog out of sight.

"Okay, we got about twenty minutes before he gets back, give or take," Felix smiled. "Come on."

They passed into the house, down the main corridor and into the large room that served as the command post.

Felix activated the holographic imager and the three dimensional image of Angmar flickered to life, rotating slowly on the display.

"Okay," Felix indicated the image. "You have everything a general could ever want about the enemy stronghold, and more," he offered with a grin. "Tell me what you think and I'll tell you what I think, deal?"

Xena marveled at the image before her. It was everything a general could ever hope for, and then more than she could have ever wanted. All the details of the enemy laid out nice and concise, with a visual reference to go with it.

She had only managed a quick glimpse earlier, but now, the amount of information and the detail of it could be more appreciated.

She forced her amazement down and began studying the data with the practiced eye of an experienced warlord. She indicated a hazy orange shaft rising from the depths of the mountain up to the pinnacle of the central tower near the rear of the main structure.

"What's this?"

"That is one of the bigger problems," Felix replied. "It's a power source of some kind. Perhaps the one responsible for keeping us all here."

"So, if we destroy that," Xena offered. "Then it may stop whatever it is that holds us here?"

"Yeah," Felix winced slightly. "Only problem is: Destroying it may cause a bang big enough to take out half of this planet."

He pulled up a secondary display and indicated a string of information. "That power source is putting out some major gigs. Now, it may simply go cold if we hit it, or it may go super critical and then?" he made a hand gesture imitating an explosion.

"So, we need to be able to get in and take control of the facility with minimal damage and actually see what we're dealing with," he finished. "That's the hurdle the chief is considering right now, and I don't think he has any viable options."

"With all of the advantages you have?" Xena gestured tot eh image. "You can't do this?"

"Not with our current numbers, no," Felix shook his head.

"Even with the Kajano?" Xena offered.

"Even with them," Felix replied. He switched to another display, zooming the image in to one of the walls. There, marching a circuit was a creature that looks strangely familiar.

It was tall, taller than any orc they had seen so far, and knotted with powerful muscle. It was clothed in typical orc fashion, with chest plate, pauldrons and bracers of wrought steel. At either hip hung a long, cruel looking blade. Its skin was dark and shone like it had been bathed in oil, but it was its features that made Xena's eyes widen.

While the features were still undoubtedly orc in nature, she also saw the rows of needle teeth and vestigial outer mandibles of the Kajano.

"Is that what I think it is?" Xena asked.

Felix nodded. "The next step in Orc evolution. An Orc/Kajano hybrid, bigger, badder, and I'll bet my left nut, a hell of a lot more advanced."

Xena stared at the beast with morbid fascination. "How could they have created this in so short a time?"

"We've been on this rock for over nine months, Xe," Felix explained. "More than enough time to create something like that." He clasped his hands together and pointed at the image with two fingers. "But that's not the part that worries me."

He paused and then sighed. "Okay that does worry me, but, remember when we found out about our little recording crystals a while back?"

Xena looked back at him and nodded.

"I'm willing to bet that these handsome devils fight in a way a lot different from the locals," Felix finished. He stepped over to the display. "Get a good enough look?"

Xena nodded.

"Good, let's get out of here," Felix switched off the power, and the image vanished. "I don't want the chief catching us here."

"Why?" Xena asked.

Felix motioned towards a rear entrance. "Come on. We'll walk and talk."

Nicolla brought her ship low, skimming the surface as she rocketed towards the rising citadel of Minas Tirith. She lined up her approach and then arced up towards the massive angle of rock jutting from the front of the palace.

Gabrielle was breathless. In the time it would have taken them to travel from her home to the nearest village, they had covered more than a thousand leagues.

The wings on the ship deployed and the Suko crested the rise, coming to a hovering stop over the long palisade before it slipped forward and settled onto the stone.

"Suko One to base," she called.

Tyrion replied immediately. "Go ahead.

"We have arrived at Minas Tirith," Nicolla reported.

"Confirmed," Tyrion replied.

She lowered the ramp and looked out past the nose of her ship as Aragorn, Arwen and the usual contingent of body guards approached.

Nicolla smiled as she felt the minds of the approaching men. They were much more relaxed than the previous time, though the forward most of the guards still had hands on their sword hilts.

"Good afternoon," Nicolla greeted as she and the others walked down the ramp.

"Lady Nicolla," Aragorn smiled in greeting. "What news?"

"There's an army marching towards the city," Gabrielle blurted. "A big army!"

Aragorn's smile faded as she saw the earnest expression on both women's faces, then he frowned as he saw the pale man's impassive expression.

"I take it you are not as concerned as these two?"  
"I am very concerned, sir," Jeeves said in his impeccable accent. "However, I do not have the wide range of emotional displays that organics possess, so I tend to be somewhat less passionate about many things.

"What do we face?" Aragorn asked as he gestured for the trio to walk with his party.

Nicolla looked up at Jeeves and nodded.

The Synthoid fell into step with the king and began to explain, in detail, the size and strength of the host.

Aragorn paled noticeably.

"How far away?" he asked.

Jeeves pursed his lips. "Without the benefit of modern transport, such as we enjoy, I would estimate that you have eighteen days before they come within sight of your walls."

Aragorn let out a sigh of relief, and then fixed Gabrielle with a subtle, but stern stare. "You would have had me believe this enemy was at our doorstep," he admonished her.

Gabrielle suddenly felt very foolish.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty," she stammered. "It's just that, well, we saw them just a few hours ago, and, well,"

The king smiled and nodded, showing that he was not really displeased. He turned to his captain.

"Send word to the Lady Eowyn," He instructed. "Osgiliath must empty. Every person should seek shelter here in Minas Tirith. Let them bring only what they can carry, food, water, and bring as many beasts as they are able, for we may have to endure a siege."

The captain gave a sharp nod of his head, his hob nail boots clacking once on the stones. Then he turned and strode quickly away.

The king turned to a second man. "Send riders to Eomer, tell him that we will have need of all his strength. He is to come with as many as he may muster. Also inform Lord Denethor that he and his relief troops are to return here as swiftly as they are able."

"My Lord," the second man also saluted, turned and departed.

"Even if my riders depart within the hour, Eomer will have precious few days to muster his people," Aragorn said.

A short while later, they convened in the main chamber of the palace. The group included Aragorn, his wife Queen Arwen, Faramir, several generals and their aides, Nicolla, Gabrielle, and Jeeves.

On the table before them was a large map of Middle Earth.

"Now, Lady," Aragorn asked, indicating the map. "Where did you say our enemy could be found?"

Nicolla looked at the map, frowning. Then she placed a finger in a large wide area well North and West of Minas Tirith.

"We saw their main force somewhere near here," she offered. "Moving in a Southeasterly direction, like this." She swept her hand down towards the borders of Gondor.

"How was their pace?" Faramir asked.

"Pace?" Nicolla asked.

Jeeves cleared his throat. "I believe you would say they were marching 'double time', as you call it."

"Quick pace," Gabrielle offered. "A lot faster than anything I'm used to seeing."

She looked around at the stern faces turning toward her. "I can't explain it any better than that. Xena is the real expert."

Aragorn considered the map for a moment and then nodded, looking at Jeeves. "I believe you're correct. For an army to travel from the Brown Lands, North of the Emyn Muil, to the Pelannor, would take somewhere on the order of twenty days."

He looked up at the faces around the table. "Our march to the Black Gates of Mordor took fifteen," he offered with a smile.

Several of the older officers also smiled at the memory of their final battle against the forces of the evil Sauron.

They considered for many hours, voicing strategies and opinions as they debated the course the coming battle.

In the midst of their deliberations, the main door of the chamber was thrown open and three more figures entered the chamber.

Aragorn's eyes widened in amazement when he saw Denethor and Eomer, accompanied by a third, massive and alien figure.

"Korbal!" Gabrielle smiled.

The Kajano leader was dressed in his armor, his weapons hanging from his body and the large green shield of Rohan slung across his shoulder.

Some of the generals who had not seen the creature, Thugal, when Nicolla had returned to the planet, took a step back in shock. Hands snapped reflexively to sword hilts.

"I pray you," Eomer raised his hands in a placating gesture. "He is friend to Rohan and to you, My King. His people have sworn peace with me and I will not have a weapon drawn upon a friend in your halls."

"Well met!" Aragorn smiled broadly. He embraced Denethor and Eomer in turn and then turned and looked up at the alien face of Korbal.

"May I present to you, My Lord," Eomer said formally. "Master Korbal, Chief Hunter of the Kajano, and new Steward of Isengard."

Eomer turned to Korbal.

"Master Korbal, I present to you the Lord Aragorn, High King of Gondor and Arnor, and your sovereign, for your stronghold dwells upon his lands."

Korbal and Aragorn locked eyes for a moment and the alien's features moved in what could have been approximated as a smile, of sorts. The big head nodded once and a deep clicking growl escaped his throat.

"We come as you have bid us, My Lord," Eomer continued.

"I have only just sent word for you to come to us," Aragorn replied, still awed. "How many are you?"

"I come with four hundred of my best warriors, My Lord," Eomer said with a smile. "The rest of the Eolingas is mustering and should be here within a fortnight."

"And I return with another four hundred on foot," Denethor added. "The rest hasten to rejoin us with Lord Eomer's forces."

"How have you returned so quickly, Lords?" Aragorn asked.

Eomer smiled. "It is quite a tale, My Lord. And the answer to the riddle lies just beyond your hall."

With a gesture, the two led Aragorn from the hall.

Gabrielle stepped up to the massive alien and smiled up into his face.

"It's good to see you again, Korbal," she offered. Her eyes drifted to the recent scars on the predator's flesh. "You look like you're healing up well."

She smiled nervously as he gazed at her with his penetrating yellow/red eyes.

A single clawed hand came to rest on her head, and she felt his claw like fingers, cool and dry.

A moment of panic grasped her as she realized he could probably crush her skull like an olive. Then the claw withdrew and the big creature turned with a deep, terrifying chuckle.

The crowd moved outside to see the massive Kajano frigates in the sky about Minas Tirith.

Two of the vessels circled lazily while the third hovered at the end of the rampart, its boarding ramp lowered to the stones as files of warriors in the livery of Rohan and Gondor strode out onto the ground.

"Master Korbal was gracious enough to bring as many of our people as we could fit within his ship, My Lord," Eomer offered.

The last of the soldiers disembarked and the ramp rose as the ship glided silently away from the rampart to take a position circling the city.

Another frigate slowed to a top and the ramp lowered.

"You bring some of your people, Korbal?" Nicolla asked with a knowing smile.

Men watched, but it seemed that nothing lay within the silent ship.

Korbal stepped forward and gave a nod.

Then, images began to appear in the space between the ship and the assembled throng. Arcs of blue coronal fire played about numerous figures and, as if emerging from some blue mist, the figures of black clad predators materialized into view. Their armor was the color of pitch, shimmering like oil in the sunlight. Masks covered the faces of the armored behemoths, each a countenance that seemed drawn from the netherworld itself. Yellow eyes flashed as the beings marched forward, edged weapons clanking like the gongs of Hell. Shoulder mounted swivel blasters turned and aimed experimentally.

While there was no uniformity in their movement, there was unity.

They all came to a stop, standing still, legs apart, arms extended, here and there, a claw flexing in anticipation.

They turned and took three steps back, opening up a lane between their ranks, and a second file materialized, then a third and finally a fourth until the end of the rampart was covered in black armored nightmares.

_"My Sons!" _Korbal roared proudly, turning back to face them. He raised his right hand and thumped a fist against his chest.

In one move, the horde of predators mimicked his move and the thud of claw against chest plates was like subtle thunder.

In the formation of Kajano, Nicolla spied the familiar face plate of Thugal and smiled, nodding to him.

The armored head nodded, ever so subtly in return.

Aragorn's mouth hung slightly agape.

Jeeves stepped forward and leaned closer to the king.

"They are called the Paldor, Majesty," he offered.

He caught a curious look from Nicolla and, looking almost embarrassed, he stepped back.

Aragorn studied the assembly for a long moment and nodded.

"Come," he offered. "We have much to discuss."

The generals and the newcomers returned to the council chamber.

"This place has long been a safe haven for the people of this land," Aragorn finished. "In this case, I believe we shall be better prepared than any of our prior sieges, thanks in no small part to your advanced warning."

"What of scouts, My Lord?" one of the generals asked. "We know the enemy is there, and we know they are coming here, but we need more information if we are to plan an adequate counter to their stroke."

"True," Aragorn nodded. He considered for a moment, his eyes staring at the map. "I shall allow a small scouting party. They are to ride until the enemy is sighted, observe what they may from a distance and return with all haste, understood?"

"Yes, My Lord," the general nodded. "By your leave?"

Korbal's right hand rose in a staying gesture and he turned his gaze to a nearby corner. There were a series of soft clocking growls and two other figures materialized, clad in light simple pieces of armor.

"Thegar?" Gabrielle exclaimed in surprise.

The big alien nodded.

Korbal and Thegar exchanged a series of growls and clicks, obviously their own language.

The Tunju Scout nodded his head once, turned and vanished in a coronal sheen before his form had left the chamber.

"He was in my chamber the entire time?" Aragorn's eyebrows rose.

"_Guarding me,"_ Korbal replied. _"I am never alone."_

He gave another short series of clicks and four more armor clad Paldorian Knights appeared, standing or crouching near the entrance of the chamber. Two more materialized in the upper rafters, perched like grotesque gargoyles.

Korbal nodded once, and the six figures vanished again.

The general gave an indignant huff. "I do not think I like having these creatures, armed, and in your very chamber, My Lord."

"What's your name again?" Nicolla asked.

"Mastien," the man replied evenly.

"Mastien," Nicolla nodded as if making a mental note. She nodded and then fixed him with a penetrating gaze.  
"Well, General Mastien," she said. "I think there are a few things you need to know about your guest here. First, Korbal holds a rank on his world identical to King Aragorn, here, and as such, will always be accompanied by a contingent of bodyguards, just as Lord Aragorn would, I expect."

Mastien pursed his lips and nodded.

"Second," Nicolla continued. "Korbal has given his word, and if any single one of his people broke that word, they would be hunted to the ends of the earth and killed, plain and simple. And finally," she smiled. "If Korbal and his people wanted to kill us all, they could have done it a long, long time ago with very little effort."

"The point is well made," Eomer nodded. He also turned to General Mastien. "I have seen our friends in battle, General. The Lady understates greatly, the potential of our friend here."

Mastien gave a small grunt, rebuffed. He nodded, his eyes on the table. "Yes, My Lord."

Korbal was looking intently at Nicolla. The young woman held the gaze unblinkingly.

She nodded and looked at the others.

"Korbal's people do not have a language, per se, though they do communicate," she nodded. "He asked me to inform you that he has dispatched Thegar, Gror, and Ugal, three of his best scouts. They will reach our enemy in four days; observe them for two days, and return. This will get them back here with several days left in order to plan an appropriate defense."

"From her to the Emyn Muil in four days, on foot?" Mastien snorted. "Impossible."

He caught Nicolla's cautious gaze and cleared his throat.

"I thought flying was impossible," Gabrielle offered. She indicated Nicolla. "Then I met these people and found out it isn't."

"In any event," Mastien continued. "I believe we should prepare to evacuate the city as well as Osgiliath."

Aragorn looked up at the general in surprise.

"Consider, My Lord," Mastien continued. "We have been given ample time to prepare a defense and also secure the safety of our population. We should seize that."

"I would have to agree," Eomer nodded. "If the force marching toward us is as vast a host as the Lady Nicolla reports, we may not be able to hold the city in its entirety. Some levels will undoubtedly be occupied. Any left trapped on those levels will be helpless against our foe."

"What say you, Lord Korbal?" Aragorn asked icily.

The big creature simply held the king's gaze for a moment and then gave a single nod.

"We should also make preparations to send you and the Lady Arwen to safety as well, My Lord," Faramir said quickly.

All motion around the table ceased. It was as if the world had suddenly held its breath.

Aragorn looked up and locked eyes with his steward. It was instantly apparent that he did not appreciate the suggestion.

"My Lord," Faramir began. "If the enemy host is as vast as we have been told, then even with all our strength, we may not hold the citadel. If that were to happen, then the safety of the royal family must be considered."

"Stop," Aragorn raised a hand. "I will not abandon the city as long as there are men willing to defend it."

He turned and looked at his wife and offered a soft smile. "However, I do agree that you should remove yourself with the rest of our people."

The Lady Arwen's eyes widened as she looked at him.

"In all the years since you claimed the throne, I have ever been at your side," she said in a soft, commanding voice. "Would you have me break that faith with you now?"

"If only to see you safe with the rest of our people," Aragorn nodded.

Arwen offered only a subtle smile and then fixed her eyes on Faramir.

"Is it not true, Faramir, that the Steward of Gondor governed the people until the king should return?" She asked.

"It is, Highness," Faramir nodded.

"Very well, then," she smiled. "Then you shall go with the people and govern them until you return to this place, or we return to you."

In that moment, Nicolla noticed something she had not seen before. The queen was tall, with soft, beautiful features, high cheeks, long dark hair and eyes.

Then a thought echoed from Gabrielle's mind. _"Endomiel!"_

She looked over in time to see Gabrielle catch herself from uttering the revelation aloud.

She looked over, saw Nicolla's curious frown, and subtly motioned, "Later."

Tyrion paced around the display table, his eyes looking over the holographic image of Angmar for the umpteenth time. The power readings within the structure gave him enough information to surmise that the field responsible for holding his people on this world was there. And if a power source could be switched on, then it stood to reason that it could also be switched off.

He leaned against the table, his fingers drumming on the wood surface.

"You know, Boss," Silas said from the entrance. "You been staring at that thing for two weeks and it still ain't changed."

"I know," Tyrion sighed.

"Any word from Nicky and the others?" Silas continued.

"The Kaj arrived and helped secure Minas Tirith. They started evacuating all civilians and non essential personnel a few days ago." Tyrion replied. "Nicky flew a sortie and dumped all of her ordinance on them, trying to thin the herd a bit."

"And?" Xena asked as she stepped past Silas and into the room.

"Hey Xe," Silas greeted.

"Didn't make a very big dent, I'm afraid," Tyrion admitted. "She and Gabby are staying on station to evacuate the royal family, if things go to shit."

Xena nodded, forcing her concern down.

"I'm loading up Beck with as much ordinance as we could spare and sending him and Iesha with a small ground crew back to Minas Tirith. They can reload the Suko's and fly a few more sorties before the enemy gets to the city." He rubbed at his temples. "Then they'll help evacuate the royal family if things get too dicey." Tyrion went on. He nodded at Xena. "That's why I sent for you. If you wanted to hitch a ride with them, there is a seat still open. I know you're worried about Gabrielle, and I think they could use your expertise."

"What are you going to do?" Xena asked. Secretly, she dreaded going aboard the flying machine.

The first time she had met Tyrion and been fortunate enough to experience flight, she had discovered that she was prone to a type motion sickness similar to that suffered by Gabrielle whenever she travel by boat.

"Stay here and try and figure this thing out," Tyrion gestured to the hologram. "Maybe we'll find some way to knock out that power source remotely."

"Perhaps I can help with that," Xena offered.

"I appreciate that," Tyrion nodded. "But your experience would be best suited with the fight we know is coming. This one," He gestured to the image again. "Is still in the "no idea" stage. I don't want an enemy at our backs as we try and move forward."

Tyrion must have seen the dread in Xena's expression because he began to smile.

"How long is the flight?" she asked.

Tyrion shrugged. "Oh, just a few hours."

She groaned and Tyrion chuckled. "Check with Prost before you leave. He'll give you something to make the trip more comfortable."

Xena's eyes widened in surprise. "You can do that?" she asked.

"Sure," Tyrion smiled.

"Then why haven't you ever before?" she demanded.

Another shrug. "Well, you never asked."

He turned and, grinning, quickly exited, leaving Xena fuming.

She stayed for a moment or two, reigning in the adolescent annoyance and then headed to the courtyard where the second ship was parked.

The tree removal was complete and the entire central area had the impression of being within a domed structure, as if the woods themselves created the outer walls. She likened it to a small ampetheater.

Teams of people moved to and from the open Suko, loading various crates and equipment. At the same time, she saw three other people painstakingly loading large projectiles into the receptacles on either side of the vessel.

The big man, Hoskins, stood on a ladder, raising a large box into a compartment just behind the six barreled cannon. His arm muscles bulged as he pushed the object into place and then quickly reached inside the bottom of the ship and gave a sharp pull on something within.

There was a clunk and a quick succession of metallic clanks.

"Loaded up!" Hoskins called as he wiped sweat from his brow. Then he saw Xena and he offered a nod.

"Xena, right?"

She nodded.

"I understand you're hitching a ride with us to this Minas Tirith place?" Hoskins asked.

Again, she nodded, her eyes studying him intently. Now that she was closer, she could see what Legolas had mentioned. His eyes were not the eyes of a potential adversary.

In that moment, she also noted that he had taken her measure as well.

He smiled more broadly and stepped down off the ladder.

"Well, I don't give no free rides, Missy," he said, jerking his thumb at the myriad of containers. "Help us get the ordinance loaded and then we'll get your seat assignment."

One of the ADV drivers, Nathan, wiped his brow with a rag and sighed.

"I don't remember loading this much shit," he moaned.

"Suck it up princess," Prost shot back. He squatted down and took hold of a long, narrow crate. "And get over here and give me a hand with this."

Xena stepped over and reached down to grab the other end.

"Not like that," Prost cautioned. "Set yourself like me and use your legs to lift, otherwise your back will hate you when you're done."

"Nag, nag, nag," One of the blonde twins said.

Prost looked over and smiled. "I'll remember that when you two are old and can't walk any more."

Unsure, Xena dropped into a mirror of Prosts position and nodded.

They counted to three and lifted the crate.

Xena's breath caught when she felt the weight of the container.

"What in the name of Zeus is in here?" she gasped.

"Lancers," Prost replied easily. The two of them moved into the ship and hauled the crate up on top of a second one already stacked on the angled loading ramp.

Prost saw her frown and patted the container.

"XM-7 Cluster Bomb," he explained. "Fires from one of the pods on this bird and separates into a cluster of twelve individual projectiles. Those each hold five pounds of concentrated gelcap explosive compound. When they go off, your whole world changes."

"Ah," Xena nodded, still none the wiser. She followed Prost out and grasped a second container, even heavier than the first one.

"You do this every day?" she asked.

"Sure," Prost smiled. "Usually with auto loaders and power lifters," he grunted and shifted the heavy container in his grip. "I'd never do it like _this_ every day. This is nuts!"

Three hours later, the job was done. The large loading ramp and the rear bulkhead were crammed full with carefully stacked crates.

The workers sat or leaned on the ramp or its lift mechanism, breathing hard.

"Alright folks," Hoskins took a long drink from his canteen. "No rest for the wicked."

He looked around at the crew, considering.

"Right," he nodded. "Xena, you're already on the passenger list. Prost, Xings, Iesha, Beck, grab what you need and get ready to…"

His voice faded when he saw Silas coming towards the party.

"Hoss!" he called. "Chief needs to see you."

He came to a stop before the crew and then began pointing in rapid succession.

"Prost, Dorn, Xings, you three go with Beck, Iesha, and Xena. The rest of you sit tight."

"Now just a damn minute," Hoskins protested.

Silas's dark gaze fixed on Hoskins.

"The Chief made the call," he said. "You stay here."

He turned back to the others and gave a nod. "Load up folks! I want gear up in five!"

All of them looked back and forth between the two behemoths.

Silas gave Xena a nod and turned and departed.

Hoskins only waited a few steps before following.

"Come on everyone," Marton said with a sigh. "Time to get moving."

"I got twenty on Hoss," Prost said as he got to his feet."

"Yeah," Marton replied. "Well, I don't want to be around them when it goes down."

"When what goes down?" Xena asked. "What happened between the two of them?"

"Si!" Hoskins stepped quickly to catch up to the big lieutenant. "That's my god damned team! My people! What the hell makes you think you can just take them from me?"

Silas turned his head back. "Talk to the chief."

"Tyrion didn't have anything to do with this, and you know it!" Hoskins fired back. "This is all about you!"

Silas wheeled around and stood nose to nose with Hoskins.

"Maybe it is!" he growled. "Maybe I just don't want to see any of them have the same 'accident' that Cartes had!"

It took a moment for Hoskins to realize what had been said, and then his expression darkened dangerously.

"You don't have a clue about what you're talking about!"

"Friendly fire?" Silas pushed. "You took out one of your own team, Hoss!"

"Not a fucking clue!" Hoskins roared back.

The rage exploded and Silas's right hand launched at Hoskins' face.

Hoskins dodged the blow and stepped back.

"Don't push it, Si!" he cautioned.

Silas struck again, and this time, the two grappled and staggered back towards the loaded drop ship.

All the activity around the ship froze as Silas's massive bulk rolled into view.

"Ah hell," Marton moaned.

Silas was back on his feet and with a bellow, he charged out of sight. They all felt the ground shake at the impact. The sound of breaking stone and shattering glass echoed through the courtyard.

Everyone left the ship and ran towards the commotion.

The two men had crashed sideways through one of the ornate windows into one of the empty houses. They were in the process of picking themselves up, dust and broken plaster coating their bodies.

"What in the seven lunars is this?" a commanding voice boomed.

Everyone turned and saw Tyrion, eyes blazing, as he strode into the room.

Silas and Hoskins both struggled unsteadily to their feet and tried to stand at attention. There faces were expressionless, there eyes a little bleary.

"It's not like we got enough shit happening on this rock, you two monkey's have to start brawling!" Tyrion said angrily. "What's this dustup about?"

His dark eyes moved back and forth between the two men.

Neither man spoke, each glancing nervously at the other.

"I asked a question!" Tyrion roared, causing everyone in earshot to jump.

"Just a disagreement, Chief," Silas offered darkly.

"Old disagreement?" Tyrion pressed, stepping up in Silas's face.

"Something like that, Chief," Silas admitted.

Tyrion took a step back and nodded. Then he seemed to notice the small crowd gathered at the broken window.

"Clear the room!" He ordered loudly.

When no one moved at first, he wheeled on them, eyes blazing. "Now!"

Even Xena felt a sudden surge of self preservation and stepped back.

Silas and Hoskins turned to withdraw.

"Not you two monkeys!" Tyrion barked. "Stand to."

Both men returned to rigid attention.

Tyrion stepped over to the shattered window and watched the rest of the party withdraw. He remained there, his hands clasped behind his back, waiting.

When he heard the engine on the remaining ship begin to whine to life, he nodded and turned back to the two men.

"Alright," he said in a measured tone. "Let's get this shit cleared up, right now."

He turned to Silas. "I don't need your attitude going to shit right before everything else gets hot. Now I understand your problem with Hoss. I have the same problem," he turned a frosty gaze on the second man. "But that doesn't give you the right to start popping off, am I clear?"

"Chief," Silas began.

"Am I clear!" Tyrion said more loudly.

"Clear, Chief," Silas gave a nod.

"And you," Tyrion turned to face Hoskins. "You should have known this was going to go down the second you signed on with Nicky! If you didn't want this, you shouldn't have been on that team!"

"They are my team," Hoskins growled. "And where they go, I go!"

Tyrion seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he offered a slight nod and turned away.

"Do either of you two even want know what went down?" Hoskins blurted.

"I was there, asshole," Silas countered, threatening to escalate the issue all over again.

"No you weren't!" Hoskins shot back.

"Enough!" Tyrion cut in.

"No sir," Hoskins said, turning to face Tyrion. "This needs to be resolved here and now, before anything else goes down!"

"Fine by me," Silas turned and would have waded after Hoskins, but Tyrion held out a hand, staying him.

"Alright," Tyrion offered. "Understand something. Randall Cartes was a friend of mine and a friend to everyone in the unit before you capped him! Now, if you think there's something you can say,"

"Randall flipped!" Hoskins blurted out.

"Bullshit!" Silas countered.

Hoskins turned and faced Silas, his own anger flaring. "He flipped, Si! Plain and simple. He had gone over to the other side and was feeding them Intel on our entire plan!"

"Cartes would never have done that!" Silas protested.

"He sold us out!" Hoskins persisted. "You, me, the Chief, here, everyone! They made an offer and he grabbed it!"

Silas opened his mouth to protest further, but Hoskins plowed on.

"You and I were forward recon that morning, right?" he gestured to Silas. "So, ask yourself: How did he get so far ahead of us? He had a portable com unit, stashed at the outer edge of our patrol perimeter, and he had just finished reporting in when he heard the two of us coming! I came around that outcropping and there he was, weapon in hand, ready to drop me!"

He shrugged. "I saw a gun, I saw a threat, and I reacted and dropped his ass first! Then I found the transceiver next to him!"

"That's a crock!" Silas bellowed. "I never saw a transceiver unit!"

"Damn right!" Hoskins shot back. "Cause I stowed it in my pack and destroyed it when we got back to base! You showed up after he was down! You saw me, kneeling over him!"

"Yeah, and what did you say when I saw you?" Silas asked. "What did you say?"

"I told you I shot him!" Blaine confessed. "Because I had."

"And why didn't you mention any of this before?" Silas pressed.

"Because I didn't want anyone else in the know! There was too much at stake!" Hoskins admitted. He took a deep breath and when it emerged, it seemed that an enormous weight began to fall from his shoulders.

"Randall was a traitor, plain and simple," he said evenly. He saw Silas bristle visibly.

"That's the truth, Chief." He continued. "But he was also one of us! We all went through training together, we all went to each others weddings, watched each others kids when we weren't watching our own asses!"

He took another deep breath. "If Con-Fed had learned that Randall was a traitor, then there was nothing. He would have been branded, his family – no honors, no pension, Mena and the girls would have had nothing! Not a god damned thing! I couldn't let that happen to them," he sighed. "So, instead, I reported the incident as a friendly fire casualty and took the discharge. I don't have a family, there wasn't going to be any collateral damage if I went down for it."

No one spoke for a long time. Hoskins looked back and forth at the two astonished expressions before him.

"Look," he offered. "You can believe me, or not. It's up to you, but that's what happened."

"And why didn't you mention this before?" Silas asked.

Hoskins scoffed. "Would you have listened? Never mind the fact that, by the time you all got out, I was already hip deep in Gaw's organization, and the last thing I figured you wanted to see was me walking into your place for a drink." He indicated the broken window behind Silas. "That would have been some of your tables, instead. I think we both know that."

Again, the awkward silence descended.

Tyrion cleared his throat. "Well, since you're here," he offered. "What can you tell us about Gaw?"

"What do you want to know?" Hoskins replied.

"Everything," Tyrion continued.

Hoskins shrugged. "He's reclusive, rarely comes out of his command center. He delegates all of his jobs through numerous lackeys in his organization." He considered for a while. "Occasionally, he'll entertain the odd person or two

"And are you just one of his lackeys?" Tyrion asked.

"Pretty much," Hoskins nodded. He offered a rueful smile. "Oh, I know I've been to the command tower a bunch of times, and I know I spoke with someone who said they were Marcolus Gaw, but I know that was all a sham."

"Oh?" Silas's eyebrows rose.

Hoskins nodded. "Whoever Gaw is, he doesn't operate anywhere near Rinos Drift. The place is falling to pieces, with very little defensive infrastructure. Only a moron would house himself there and not upgrade the defenses. Anyone with as much juice as Gaw could afford to build up that drift enough to take out a battle cruiser. Instead, its falling apart. A frigate team could overwhelm it in a day."

"So, who was the guy who set up the deal with Nicky?" Tyrion asked.

Hoskins shrugged. "I don't know, but he seemed to have free range to do whatever he wanted, in Gaw's name."

Tyrion seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he nodded and looked back at the two men. His eyes fixed on Hoskins. "I don't know if I believe what you say, Hoss. I'll be honest, it's a stretch. Never mind that a lot of years have gone by before this little revelation."

His eyes moved to Silas and then back again. "That being said, I can't have you two monsters at each other's throats, so make peace with it."

He turned to depart.

"What about my team?" Hoskins asked.

Tyrion turned back and offered a humorless smile. "You hired on with Nicky, so, technically, you're hers and so are the rest of your people."

He smile faded to something darker. "And Nicky is one of my people, so, where does that put you in the food chain?"

Hoskins gulped. "Understood, Chief."

Tyrion paused a second time at the doorway. "Oh, and if I pull you from a mission, I usually have a damn good reason. If you have an issue with it, take it up with me, not my messenger, understood?"

Hoskins looked at Silas, who let a small smile appear on his face as he nodded in Tyrion's direction.

Hoskins looked back at Tyrion and nodded. "Understood, Master Chief."

"Hold of on departure, get cleaned up, both of you, and have everyone in the command center in fifteen minutes," Tyrion ordered. "Dismissed."


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Tyrion paced about the empty fire pit in the room that served as their command center, his eyes locking on the hologram of Angmar as he weighed his options. His pace would slow as he considered an idea and then the pace increased as if he were trying to leave all the poor options behind. He considered an assault from the air, and immediately dismissed that because of the power source at the center of the complex. A night assault would result in needless deaths. That was if the rank and file could make it across the bridge spanning the chasm. That plan depended on his team repelling into the keep from the northern face, into the far side of the citadel and then sneaking their way around to open the main gate.

The aspect of securing the gatehouse from within the keep was suicidal, despite the advantage of his team's advanced weapons.

"Chief?" a voice interrupted his introspection. Tyrion looked up to see Felix hovering near the entrance. Behind him, the massive bulk of Silas filled the half-open doorway. The big man looked even more uncomfortable than he did a few minutes prior.

"The others are gathering in the hall," Felix jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the entrance hall. "But we need a few minutes of time before you do what we both know you're planning on doing."

"And what am I planning on doing, Doc?" Tyrion asked.

"Giving up," Felix answered evenly. His head moved, indicating the hologram. "We both see the same thing there, Chief. A no win scenario with the assets we got, right?"

Tyrion did not respond, but his stony expression spoke volumes to the intuitive young medic.

"That's what I thought," he sighed. "So, what's the plan? Close down ops out here and jump back to Minas Tirith to help defend the city? Maybe finish up with this campaign and then, what? Find a nice little plot of land and retire for good? Become farmers?"

"Perhaps," Tyrion replied. "You know what we're up against?"

"Yes," Felix nodded. "I can read a holo just as well as you can. I also tend to think more outside the box than others, especially people who avoid potential options."

The young medic stepped over by the hologram and began pacing around it, staring again at the information he had considered when Tyrion had been absent.

"And you've considered every option?" Felix asked.

"Every feasible option," Tyrion nodded.

"You sure about that?" Silas offered from the doorway.

"Of course I'm sure!" Tyrion shot back a little hotly.

"I disagree," Felix said. His eyes locked on the image. "There is one strategy that I know you haven't considered."

His hand swept along the outer wall of Angmar. "Figure both ADV's could be used to cross the bridge and breach the main gate, but in order for that to happen, we would need a series of long range snipers positioned at various locations on this opposing ridgeline, here." He indicated a shelf opposite the gap, overlooking the entrance and the bridge.

"Even with snipers covering this, and with the Kajano helping, you would need more Spec Ops teams to assault various points along the wall, drawing defenses away from the target area, right? Keep the defensive troops spread out and unable to support each other."

"Yeah, so?" Tyrion retorted.

"So," Felix continued. "We have enough ordinance and equipment to outfit twenty Spec Ops teams."

"And no people to use it!" Tyrion said.

"Yet," Silas finished.

"What?" Tyrion began, his expression darkened as he realized what his teammates were suggesting. "No way!" He held his hands up and shook his head. "Not an option!"

"Of course it's an option, Chief," Felix shot back. "It's a very viable option! More so here than,"

"No!" Tyrion turned and strode towards the door, ostensibly to open it and allow everyone to enter, but Silas stepped away from the entrance and blocked his path.

"I don't want to die of old age on this rock, Chief," he said. There was a hint of menace in his growling voice.

"We may not have a choice," Tyrion replied. "Now stand aside."

Silas's massive arms crossed his chest and he shook his head.

"We all know that we're going to have to tackle the forces moving towards Tirith," Felix said quickly. "And that means deploying everyone we got into that theater."

He stepped around the hologram and fixed his gray eyes on Tyrion. "That also means that we'll be in a position to transport a select group of individuals for additional training after that engagement. They fly back here with us while the remainder of the army marches from Tirith to here!"

"I will not be responsible," Tyrion bellowed.

"For what?" Felix bellowed back, cutting him off. "You're the one so used to quoting the regs to me, well here's one you seem to have forgotten: The safe deployment and return of any unit is the responsibility of the unit commander. By virtue of that position, it is understood that a unit commander may utilize any and all assets or individuals to ensure the successful completion of any mission in the current theater of operation."

"That regulation involves internal assets in a time of war!" Tyrion countered.

"This is war time, Chief!" Silas boomed suddenly. "And we are on the king's side!"

Tyrion looked up at the big man.

"We didn't ask for it," Silas finished more quietly. "But there it is, and we attached ourselves to Eomer and Aragron's forces when we started popping those Orcs at the gates of Edoras."

Tyrion growled in frustration as he turned away from Silas, only to lock eyes with Felix again.

"Any and all assets," Felix quoted again. "It's either that, or we end up stranded here for life."

"I would have thought you'd like that, Doc," Tyrion countered, referring to the young medic's growing relationship with Gabrielle.

"Yeah, well," Felix shrugged. "If we end up working out, I want it to be on our terms. Being trapped here doesn't really sound like a fair opportunity, if you know what I mean?"

Tyrion paced away from the two men, his mind reeling and his conscience in turmoil. He knew his two colleagues were correct, but the idea of putting so many lives at risk felt like a smothering wave.

"This isn't Keckopa, Chief," Silas offered, knowing what his friend was wrestling with. "These people have been stuck primitive for a long, long time."

Tyrion considered for a while longer. When he looked back at the two men his expression was haunted.

"You think that makes a difference?" he asked.

Felix nodded. "I think it makes a world of difference, Chief. The Kecks were primitive when we met them. They never respected the potential of what we brought, even when they understood the principles. This world has had four millennia to move past that innocence, and these folks are all too aware of what abuse of power can do."

"Look me in the eye, right now," Tyrion growled. "And tell me that they won't blow themselves straight to hell."

Felix locked his gaze on Tyrion's and considered. "I trust Aragorn."

"And if we're stuck here, regardless, are you willing to bet your life on that?" Tyrion finished. "Are you willing to bet Gabby's?"

Felix saw the trap for what it was. In spite of the obvious attempt to goad a response from him, Felix knew the issue was valid. He considered for a few moments and then nodded.

"Yes."

Tyrion looked up at Silas, one of the most compassionate people he had ever known. He studied the big man, knowing that beneath the massive, muscled exterior and the murderous ferocity, there was a gentle giant of a man.

"Si?"

"If we want a chance to live a normal life," Silas offered. "Either here or back home, then Angmar needs to go down, Chief."

Tyrion leaned against the table, his head bowed as he took several deep breaths. It seemed that a weight pressed inexorably on his shoulders. Finally, he nodded and pushed himself back upright, locking eyes with Silas.

The big man's somber expression began to crack and a smile began to spread across his face. "Question is: You still got it?"

One eyebrow rose slightly.

Silas's smile widened showing big white teeth.

Felix looked back and forth between the two men and he also began to smile. Not because he and Silas had won the argument. Not because they had plead a case and been victorious, but because something long dormant had begun to return to life in the two men.

Tyrion took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. How many are we looking at?"

Silas offered a shrug. "Dropout rate for Spec Ops was right around sixty-five percent, right?"

"So, "Felix continued. "Figure ten teams, fifty men? We need a hundred and a half?"

"So, we use the Kaj Frigates to bring one hundred and fifty of Aragorn's finest here, and make them better."

"Absolutely," Silas nodded. "You set up the plan – Hoss and I run the beggars into the ground and build them back up."

"And I patch up the ones that get hurt in the process," Felix offered.

"I don't like it," Tyrion held up his hand, stalling the rising enthusiasm. "I want you both to know that right now, and that means I am going to go out of my way to wash out every last son of a bitch we bring back."

"I understand," Felix nodded. "That just means we will get the best out of them."

"Okay, let them in," Tyrion gestured to the door.

"Ah," Felix was suddenly uncomfortable. "That isn't all, boss. There was one other little twist that we needed to talk to you about."

"You're really pushing today, aren't you," Tyrion growled. "What is it?"

"Better if I show you," Felix offered, gesturing towards the side door that led to their storage room.

His curiosity aroused, He followed the young medic. "Si, let them in," he nodded as he stepped through into the equipment room.

When he and Felix re-entered the main chamber, it was instantly apparent to everyone in the room that something had changed as a result of the little sidebar. Unlike the other meetings that Tyrion's people had been having, this one also included Merry and Pippin, Xena, Gabrielle, Legolas, and Gimli. Even Elanor Gamgee was in attendance, scowling with suspicion at the other people in the room.

Tyrion's demeanor was more assertive, more formal. He looked about the room with a renewed intensity and they all felt a new sense of purpose in his bearing.

Instinctively, anyone in the room with a military background felt a sudden urge to stand a little straighter, almost to attention.

Conversation fell off as he strode to the center of the room, opposite the table with the holographic projector. He flipped a switch and a three dimensional image of Minas Tirith shimmered to life.

"Okay people!" he announced. "Settle down."

Mileasha's eyebrow rose in surprise. As the last of the side conversations came to an abrupt halt

Tyrion looked over at Elanor. "I need you to secure housing for one hundred and fifty men – single structure preferably," he ordered.

"Now wait just a minute," The hobbit began to protest.

Tyrion cut her off. "Miss Gamgee, You may as well accept the fact that we are not only here to stay, but that we are going to be bringing more people here in order to prepare to defend this entire region. I appreciate the fact that your people are here to preserve history. The only problem is: You're so focused on trying to preserve history that you don't realize you're in the middle of making it."

Her mouth opened and shut as she tried to find the right words.

"While the culture that created this place is gone, this place is still strategically important, and we will need to use it to house our forces, do you understand?"

"Forces?" Elanor stammered.

"One hundred and fifty more individuals," Tyrion finished. "So any recoverable housing space will need to be designated as troop housing, officer's quarters, supply depots, and parade grounds! Do it, and have it done by the time we get back!"

"I don't take orders from you!" Elanor shot back.

"You do today!" Tyrion shut her down and then looked at his data pad.

"After that, we need a way to get the additional equipment and munitions space dropped to this location."

Mavon leaned behind Iesha to whisper in Felix's ear.

"What the hell did you say to him?"

"Shh!" Iesha hissed.

Mavon and Felix exchanged a look and Mavon grinned.

Tyrion looked at Felix. "Can you arrange to get that equipment dropped here?"

The young medic considered for a moment.

"A sonic field may get through the dampening field," Felix offered. "Or I could find a way to piggyback a signal on the existing one that emanates from low orbit."

"Make it happen," Tyrion ordered.

Felix nodded.

"I said, make it happen!" Tyrion repeated more forcefully.

"Yes, Master Chief," Felix stood up straighter, his eyes forward.

Tyrion turned back to the assembly and began pacing.

"Here's the game plan people," he began. "Provided the King approves, we will be using our drop ships and as many frigates as the Kajano are willing to supply, to aid in a complete evacuation of Minas Tirith. Once the city has been cleared of all non military personnel, one frigate will be tasked to transport one hundred and fifty volunteers from the Army of Gondor, to Rivendell for supplemental training."

The room went completely still and a few members of Tyrion's party felt their jaws drop in disbelief.

"By supplemental training, I am saying that those men will be trained in the use of our weapons, in our tactics, in every aspect of our technology applicable to service in the Special Forces Division of the Confederated Systems - with the exception of flight operations."

Tyrion nodded. "That's right, folks. We are going to turn the best of Gondor into the best of us."

"I will be in overall charge of our training program, with Sergeant Blaine and Lieutenant Moore serving as my drill instructors," he looked at Hoskins. "Good?"

Hoskins actually smiled. "You got it, Chief."

"Additionally," Tyrion continued. "If any of our newcomers would like to enlist in our Special Operations Training Program, they will be welcome to do so. I can promise two things: First, I will work the ever loving shit out of you, and second, if you complete the course you will walk away from that experience a hundred times the person you are now."

"Son of a bitch," Mavon breathed.

Tyrion fell silent. At first it was assumed that he was letting the gravity of that decisions sink in. After ten heartbeats, the silence began to feel awkward.

"Tyrion?" Xena asked.

The old soldier blinked suddenly and became animate again.

"It has also been brought to my attention that Nicolla ended up bringing something else with the equipment she acquired from Marcolus Gaw," he said. "It turns out that there were two canisters of NV-8 mixed in with the stores aboard the Arcum."

"What?" Dade blurted in surprise.

"I can only assume that the Arcum had been tasked with another mission before Nicolla and her people commandeered her," Tyrion offered. He looked at Nicolla and nodded. "I know Nicky would never elect to use such a weapon, however it is here and it provides us with a singular opportunity in this conflict."

"Chief?" Hoskins asked. "Are you saying you plan to deploy a W. M. D. on this planet?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," Tyrion nodded. We will transport the nerve agent with us to Minas Tirith. Everyone gets new gear before we deploy. Standard uniforms and packs. Specialty modules for those with unique skills." He smiled ruefully. "If we are going to create a military elite on this planet, we need to start looking like a military unit."

"What if we were never in the military?" Iesha asked, raising her hand.

Tyrion's gaze fixed on her and she felt a shiver run up her spine.

"Consider yourself drafted," he said evenly.

Tyrion turned to Marton.

"Get the compound loaded on Suko One and get both ships ready to lift off."

"Aye sir," Marton nodded.

He looked about the room. "Hoss, Jeeves, handle quartermaster duties. New uniforms and equipment for everyone."

"Aye aye master Chief," Hoskins replied.

"Anyone not originally born on this rock, gear up. I want A.W.I., weapons check and combat inspection in thirty minutes." Tyrion snapped. "Wheels up in thirty five minutes."

"Tyrion?" Gabrielle raised an eyebrow.

"If we're going to help Minas Tirith, then I need everyone on this mission!" He nodded at Xena and Gabrielle. "That means you."

He turned back to Elanor. "I understand that your team is a group of scholars and that you aren't set up for this, but, I need you to start delegating some members of your group as sentries. Have them walking a perimeter or patrolling the area."

Elanor's mouth opened to protest, but Tyrion had discovered that the best way to get a word in with the temperamental hobbit was to not let her speak.

"We don't know if the enemy has troops in the area yet," he continued quickly. "But even if he doesn't now, he will soon."

His eyes moved across the faces in the room. "Dismissed!"

No one moved for a moment, but Hoskins stepped forward, his tone intimidating and filled with authority.

"Okay ladies, you all heard the man and you all know the drill! Assholes and elbows! Roll out!" He clapped his hands together. That loud smack snapped everyone out of their stupor and the room became a blur of motion as everyone exited the room.

Xena caught up with Felix as he, Gabrielle, and Silas moved down the hallway towards the outer door.

"What did you say to him?" she asked the big man.

Felix was smiling. He looked up at Silas.

"Oh yeah, he's still got it."

There was a sense of renewed purpose in everyone's movements as the two ships were prepped for launch.

Tyrion stood staring at the image of Minas Tirith, his gut solidifying into a frozen chunk of methane.

Gabrielle watched the others depart and then stepped over to the opposite side of the table.

She studied his face for a moment. He looked tired. The lines in his face seemed deeper and more pronounced, and his breathing was long and sounded labored.

"Tyrion?" she asked quietly.

He looked up at her and the look in his eyes confirmed his state. He was worn down and weary.

"Are you alright?" she asked as she stepped around the table to stand beside him.

He nodded. "I'm fine, sweetheart." The military authority was gone and he was, once again, the retired old soldier.

She leaned closer and looked at him. "You don't look very good."

"Just a little tired, that's all," Tyrion replied.

She smiled. "Liar."

He looked up at her sharply and saw the hint of a smile. He returned the smile and nodded.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Gabrielle asked. She shook her head suddenly and put a hand on his. "I take that back. Talk to me." There was insistence in her voice now. "Tell me?"

Tyrion stood up and sighed. "What are you going to do, if I tell you what's on my mind?"

"Listen," Gabrielle replied evenly.

Tyrion smiled and nodded. "Only listen?"

Gabrielle returned the smile. "Probably not. Does it really matter? I mean, let's face it, you've been going like a fury for how long now?"

Tyrion reached over and placed his other hand on top of hers and patted it.

"I promise to tell you everything in my noggin when this is all over, fair enough?"

She looked at him dubiously but finally nodded. "I'll remind you of that."

"I have no doubt," Tyrion nodded. "Now go get your stuff together and get ready to fly."

Gabrielle nodded and turned away. She stopped at the door and turned back, grinning broadly. "Poor Xena. How long is the flight?"

Tyrion shrugged. "Couple of hours, why?"

"Remember the last time you took her for a flight?" Gabrielle's smile widened.

Tyrion fished in his breast pocket for a moment and then tossed a small silver packet to Gabrielle.

"Tell her to take one of those, and she won't have any problems," Tyrion instructed. "I don't need any of you puking on our way there."

Thirty minutes later, Tyrion emerged from the main hall. The long ponytail was gone, and his hair had been cut in the traditional "high and tight" style required by all active service members. His beret was deep crimson, emblazoned with the insignia of his old unit. The new, more modern combat uniform itself was clean and pressed and his beaten boots had been polished to a brilliant sheen. At his hip was the customized DE-10 pistol that Nicolla had chosen for him while procuring the rest of their equipment.

Tyrion had also taken the time to carefully remove and reattach his rank, insignia, and had even managed to find some of his commendations to affix on the charcoal colored uniform.

"Well I'll be god damned," Silas grinned.

Xena nodded in understanding.

Hoskins Blaine stood, also in uniform, his sergeant stripes gleaming in his shoulder. He saw Tyrion approaching and turned to the activity near the ships.

"Stand to the ready line!" He bellowed. His thunderous voice reverberated in the courtyard.

Instantly, the last of the panels were sealed shut and the crews ran to stand at attention in a line in front of both ships. Hoskins marched forward continuing his bellows as he chivied the stragglers into line.

Felix emerged from around the corner and leaned against the wall, smiling.

Tyrion stopped and looked at him. "I'm sorry Mister Malone," Tyrion said with an air of menace. "Is there some reason you're too good to stand at the line?"

Instantly Felix straightened and almost ran to a position at the end of the formation. "No, Master Chief, not at all!" he jabbered as he assumed his place.

Marton looked at Felix and made a gesture that Xena took to be some form of religious blessing.

Tyrion stopped and stood at ease before the group. His eyes moved back and forth across the faces of the people assembled.

"Most of you have never served under me," he said. "And some of you have never served in the military at all; you just found you had a predisposition to the tools of our trade."

Mileasha and Iesha both suppressed grins.

"That doesn't matter to me," Tyrion went on as he began pacing up the line. "What matters to me are three things: First, no heroes or lone gunslingers. We are all part of a team. This unit will work, sleep and fight as a team, period. Watch each other's backs. Take care of each other.

Second, No thieving, looting, or" he caught himself and modified his words. "Messing around with the locals. Any unacceptable social behavior could cost us credibility. You step out of line and I'll shoot you myself."

He let that sink in for a few moments.

"And finally," Tyrion reached the end of the line and turned back. "When we go after the sons of bitches, you go in to beat the ever loving shit out of them, period."

He paced back. "You follow those rules and we'll get along fine. Break one," he stopped and held up a single finger. "And I will eat you for lunch."

One look in his eyes and everyone on the line knew he meant every word.

"Saddle up," Tyrion finished.

Hoskins took one-step forward and turned around.

"Load up people!" he ordered. "Xings, Prost, Vas, Xena, Gabrielle, Legolas, Gimli," he frowned at the names on his roster. "Merry and Pippin, with Lieutenant Moore and the Master Chief in Suko One! The rest of us with Lieutenants Mavonski and Malone in Suko Two!"

Tyrion turned to Elanor and nodded. "We'll be back in about a month!" He raised his voice as the first of the drop ships engines began spooling up. "Make sure I have a place to house one hundred and fifty men!"

"I don't like you, Mister Darquefyre!" Elanor shouted back at him angrily.

Tyrion held up one finger. "One month! One hundred and fifty men!"

He turned and strode up the ramp of the nearest drop ship just as it began to rise into the belly of the vessel.

Tyrion dropped into a seat aboard his ship and rubbed his eyes. Xena studied him closely for a moment.

She rose and, stumbling a little as the ship lifted from the ground, she dropped into the seat next to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," Tyrion replied. "Gabby give you the pill?"

"Yes," Xena replied. "Thank you."

Xena's eyes narrowed as she scrutinized him. Tyrion turned his eyes and locked onto her stare. "You too now?"

Xena suddenly realized what she was looking at. "You're exhausted, Tyrion."

"Yep, you too," Tyrion replied, leaning back in the seat. "I'm fine Xena, really."

"You can get some sleep while we travel," Xena offered.

Tyrion looked back at her and smiled. "You're trying to take your mind off of the fact that we're in the air, aren't you."

Xena offered a subtle shrug and kept her eyes fixed on the Master Chief.

"Yep," Tyrion nodded. "That's what I thought."

"Don't change the subject!" Xena shot back. "You've barely rested since you found Gabrielle and I."

"We've been a little busy, Xena," Tyrion retorted.

"I understand that," Xena shot back with equal force. "But you can't keep going indefinitely."

"You can't, perhaps," Tyrion replied.

"You know what I mean," Xena cut him off.

Tyrion raised a hand to halt the conversation.

"I'm fine, Xena, thanks," he said with an air of finality. He pulled his data pad from his pocket and began reviewing information.

Xena frowned at him but accepted the subtle rebuke. She stood, and trying to ignore the shifting in the floor, stumbled back to her seat next to Gabrielle.

"Well?" Gabrielle asked.

"He's a stubborn man," Xena commented as she fumbled with the restraints. "He'll keep going until he drops."

Gabrielle smiled. "Sounds like someone else I know."

Xena gave her a frosty look. "Very funny."

"I'm serious," Gabrielle nodded towards Tyrion. "Now you know what I have to deal with when you get obsessive."

"I don't get obsessive," Xena countered.

"Seriously?" Gabrielle smiled. She raised her hands as if to begin ticking off items.

"Don't do it," Xena cut her off, grinning.

Gabrielle's smile faded as she began thinking about what lay ahead.

"It's really kind of ridiculous when you think about it," she offered.

Xena raised an eyebrow.

"Think about it," Gabrielle offered. "We spend the better part of a year running all over this world, only to find ourselves flying – literally flying – back to where we started. I mean, really, what was the point?"

Xena shrugged. "I don't understand most of what Felix says, but I do understand the general principle."

Gabrielle shook her head. "There has to be more to it than that."

Xena shrugged again.

"You want to know what I think?" Gabrielle offered.

Xena rolled her eyes. Gabrielle's polite question was more like a statement of intent. Whether or not Xena wanted to know, Gabrielle was going to expound.

"Zeus, Hera, Poseidon," Gabrielle began. "Even Aphrodite can read our minds like that!" she snapped her fingers. "So why are we doing all of this? Why all the running around?"

"I give up," Xena replied, humoring the young bard.

"It's like a game," Gabrielle stated. "Whoever or whatever is in charge of all this is treating this like a game. It's like those battle recreations that I've heard about. You know, the ones they do in Rome, at the Coliseum?"

"What?" Xena asked, horrified.

"Think about it," Gabrielle went on. "It's not as farfetched as you might think."

"Gabrielle," Xena chided. "Those recreations are nothing more than staged murder."

"Exactly!" Gabrielle nodded. "Who is to say that this world is nothing more than the floor of a large coliseum, and the Gods of this world are sitting in the stands, watching all of this happen."

"That's horrible, Gabrielle," Xena said.

"But possible," Gabrielle nodded.

Xena looked back at the young bard about to protest, but paused as the idea took hold.

Gabrielle raised her eyebrow.

"Which means they could be watching us," Xena began.

"The entire time." Gabrielle finished. "And not just watching either. They've been interacting with us. Remember Tyrion's former commander?"

Xena nodded.

The ship trembled suddenly as it encountered turbulence. Immediately, Xena's stomach also began to feel turbulent despite the medication.

"And we suddenly have all this equipment and a bunch of new faces," Gabrielle continued quickly.

Xena scanned the unfamiliar faces in the nearby seats and then looked back at Gabrielle.

"Do you think one of them?" she left the end of the question unstated.

Gabrielle shrugged. "You're the one who taught me not to ignore possibilities. The fact that someone in our new group of people might not be who they appear to be?" She offered a mirror of Xena's shrug. "It's possible."

Gabrielle looked across at Tyrion, sitting and studying his data pad. She saw the fatigue and grim determination and she began to worry anew. He seemed to sense he was being scrutinized and his dark eyes rose to meet her gaze.

An involuntary shiver ran down her spine as she stared back into those dead pools.

"I'm not having this conversation a second time, young lady," Tyrion said in a fatherly tone.

Gabrielle held up her hands in a gesture of surrender and was rewarded with a tired smile from the old soldier.

"What are you working on?" Gabrielle asked conversationally.

Tyrion sighed and frowned down at his notes. "Just an idea for Minas Tirith."

"Provided the King goes along with you?" Gabrielle added.

Tyrion chuckled. "Yes."

Gabrielle crossed over and sat down next to Tyrion, looking at the data pad. "Tell me about it?"

Tyrion smiled. "You're getting nosy all of a sudden."

"I'm curious," Gabrielle replied innocently. "What's wrong with that?"

Xena let her head fall back against the bulkhead and watched as Gabrielle began, in her usual manner, to subtly worm her way into Tyrion's confidence. She smiled knowing that Tyrion would soon be talking about everything in the world except the information on the data pad. She let her eyes close and drifted off to sleep.

The next thing she realized, the ship had made a turn and she felt the descent in the pit of her stomach.

Gabrielle was still seated next to Tyrion, deep in some private conversation. As Xena expected, the data pad rested on the seat opposite Gabrielle.

"We're on approach to Minas Tirith, folks," Nicolla's voice came over the speakers. "Secure your stations and prepare for landing."  
The two vessels arced gracefully over the protruding shelf of rock and settled smoothly onto the stones. A full contingent of Gondor's guards came forward and took position on either side and in front of the king.

Aragorn stood, waiting as the two loading ramps settled to the ground and the passengers began to emerge.

It was immediately apparent that something had changed with Tyrion's group. Everyone was dressed in new uniforms with weapons slung at their shoulder or settled at their sides, and packs hanging at their backs.

Tyrion himself came striding down the ramp, dressed in identical, utilitarian clothing. His uniform was clean and well fitted his beret was set smartly on his head, the embroidered rank insignia shone like spun gold.

"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," Tyrion greeted the king as he came to a halt and saluted.

Behind him, Hoskins had everyone standing at attention in two ranks.

"Master Tyrion," Aragorn nodded in greeting. His hand rose and gestured to the others. "What is this riddle?"

"There has been a development that you should be made aware of, sir," Tyrion said formally. "My people and I are here to help facilitate the defense of your city."

Aragorn's eyebrows rose. "Defense of the city?"

"Yes, sir," Tyrion nodded. "May we talk privately?"

Aragorn turned and began to gesture towards the palace but froze when he saw Merry and Pippin step between the ordered soldiers.

"Master Took! Master Brandybuck!" Aragorn said sternly.  
The two hobbits froze and looked up like guilty children.

"I trust your mischief is concluded, gentlemen?"

"Yes, Majesty," Pippin said, bowing.

"Yes, My Lord," Merry said at the same time as he also bowed.

Aragorn let the hint of a smile show on his face and then nodded. "On your way, gentlemen."

He looked back up at Tyrion and offered a smile as he turned towards the palace. The old soldier fell into step with the king.

"I trust they were not a burden to you," Aragorn offered, indicating the retreating hobbits.

"Not at all, sir," Tyrion smiled. "In fact, they helped prevent what may have been a sticky situation with another group of hobbits."

Aragorn looked at Tyrion, curious.

"We set up our base at a place called Rivendell," Tyrion explained.

"I know the place well," Aragorn nodded. "I was raised there for a time."

"Well," Tyrion nodded. "When we found the place, a group of hobbits were already there, studying the place. Their leader was a little spitfire named Elanor."

Aragorn raised his eyebrows again. "Elanor Gamgee?" he asked with a smile.

Tyrion was surprised. "Is there anyone on this planet that you don't know?" he asked.

"Elanor Gamgee is the daughter of a dear friend and relative to Merry and Pippin," Aragorn explained. "Her father assisted the Ring Bearer in his quest to bring about the downfall of Sauron."

Aragorn's expression sobered. "Those were dark days, before the return of the king here in Gondor."

Tyrion looked back at the contingent of bodyguards following several steps behind.

"Those dark days aren't quite done, sir," he said quietly.

Hoskins and Silas watched the retreating party and waited until Tyrion had vanished into the palace.

"Stand easy," Hoskins ordered. Everyone relaxed and took a breath.

Silas moved towards Marton's ship.

"Hazmat detail," he called as he fished a breather from his pack. "Let's get to work."

Felix, Prost, Jeeves, and Marton followed the bulky lieutenant to the ship.

Tyrion stepped away from the table and the map stretched across it.

Aragorn looked into his eyes for a long moment and nodded. "Send for the council," he ordered a nearby guard. "They are to come to the council chambers immediately."

"My Lord," the guard thumped his fist against his chest and exited the escort.

Tyrion tapped the com unit in his ear. "Nicky? Take your friend and recon the area where you picked up Felix and Mavon. I need a local and speed of that incursion force."

Half an hour later, the king and his advisory council, a group of ten nobles who represented various aspects of the city government, all sat around a long, ornate table. They sat and talked for nearly two hours before the conversation finally arrived at the issue of the approaching army.

Tyrion gave them a rough estimate of the force approaching them, based on the information he had received from Felix, Mavon, and Nicolla.

"There are two aspects of this force that concern me," Tyrion said as he sipped at a cup of wine. "The sheer numbers we're dealing with and the complete lack of discipline."

"They lack disciplined leadership?" one of the councilors, an elder, thin faced man named Sero asked.

"Yes," Tyrion nodded. "And in this case, that's bad. We won't be facing ordered ranks, but a horde of crazy attackers."

"The lack of deliberation should make the defense of the city that much easier, then." Sero countered. "Since they will not employ any discernible strategy."

"In this case, that works against us, Lord Sero," Aragorn's chief military advisor, General Tarthes offered. "An undisciplined horde of the numbers that Master Tyrion suggests could lose enough to pile the dead against our walls and simply overrun them."

"One moment, please," Tyrion said as he tapped his ear and listened. He nodded and jotted several notes on his data pad.

"Understood," he replied. "Return to base and await further orders."

He lifted his eyes and nodded to the assembly. "Sorry. Had to take that call."

He glanced down at the data pad and sighed.

"My pilot reports that the force approaching from the west has grown, with numerous groups linking up from various points south and east of Dol-Guldor," Tyrion said evenly. The estimation is that every place that these creatures exist has been emptied to make this one massive assault."

"I have heard rumors that the orcs and goblins left over in Mordor have also been gathering," Another of the councilors, offered.

"Every vile creature in Middle Earth, suddenly gathering to overrun us?" A third noble said skeptically. "Impossible."

Tyrion offered a shrug. "When we passed through Moria the place emptied. By the time my team made it to the upper levels, the entire mine was totally deserted."

"You passed through Moria?" Aragorn asked in astonishment.

"It was the only way to catch up with the thieves who robbed the treasury," Tyrion replied.

"An errand that proved fruitless," Aragorn added in a flat voice. "The crown of the Witch King was not recovered."

He paused and shook his head. "What's done is done," he added. "Forgive me, Master Tyrion. Please continue."

Tyrion nodded. "The force approaching the city could easily overwhelm it in a matter of days, if not hours. A force like this can only mean one thing: the complete annihilation of every man, woman, and child in this city and Osgiliath."

No one spoke.

Tyrion rose and set the holo-projector in the center of the table. He activated the unit and the hologram of the city materialized in the air before him.

The assembled nobles all started slightly, and the sound of chairs scraping on the stone floor echoed through the chamber.

"Here's Minas Tirith, gentlemen," Tyrion said, stepping away from the table.

"What magic is this?" one of the men breathed.

Tyrion smiled and shrugged. As he drew a small pointer from a pocket. He pressed a button and the gates blocking access to the various levels, as well as the main gates all flashed red.

"And this is every access point from level to level in the city," Tyrion went on. He gestured and several greenish blocks appeared at the far end of the fields that Aragorn had called the Pelannor.

"These green shapes represent the army that is approaching the city. According to my pilot, we have roughly two weeks until the enemy arrives." He used the pointer and began to manipulate the representation. The green blocks began sliding towards the main gates of the city.

"The enemy will cross the fields, here, after overrunning Osgiliath, and hit the main gates, like so." The green mass stopped before the red flashing area that indicated the ornate main gates of the city. "They'll slam into the gates, and before we know it," he pressed the button again and the green square began to deform as it squeezed its bulk through the small opening. "We're finished."

"What of the others?" another elder offered. For the life of him, Tyrion could not recall the man's name.

"The Kajano?" Tyrion offered and the man nodded.

Tyrion shook his head. "They are presently working with King Eomer to secure his borders and bolster your western defenses, should we have to retreat to Rohan. Once completed, I have been assured that Korbal will deploy some of his followers to assist us, but at present, the only things we have are two of their three frigates."

He paused the simulation and smiled. "Even if I bring everything I have to bear against this force, and even if Korbal commits his entire force to the engagement," Tyrion continued grimly. "We won't make a large enough dent in the numbers to deflect this assault. The enemy is going to take the city."

He paused and a smile began to pull at his features. "And I propose we let them do exactly that."

Faramir, annoyed by the assumption that his own town of Osgiliath did not warrant even a token defense, had heard enough.

"You propose what?" he rose from his seat. His expression and outrage were mirrored on every face at the table except the kings. "You would have us stand idle as the enemy simply swarms into our cities and lays waste to our people?"

"Not at all," Tyrion shook his head. "I proposed we let them through the gate into the city. I never said our population would be inside the city, waiting for them."

Faramir paused and frowned.

"Gentlemen, we look at this information and we automatically think we must match the enemy in numbers to win. More men, more weapons, more time, et cetera. In this case, however, we can do the opposite," Tyrion offered. "We have a little more than two weeks to evacuate all but a minimal defense of the city. Once that is completed, I can deploy the only weapon I have that gives us a fighting chance to beat this invasion."

He described the CV-8 compound and its affects, watching as the men in the room paled noticeably as they absorbed the information.

"The compound is indiscriminant, gentlemen," Tyrion finished. "It is what we call a Weapon of Mass Destruction. Its sole purpose is to depopulate an area."

He activated the pointer again and the hologram reanimated with the enemy forces once again advancing across the Pelannor.

"As the enemy approaches, we counter with every projectile weapon we have," Tyrion began. "The weapons carried by my people will function from the second and fourth tiers of the city. They will provide cover when we begin to withdraw."

The image showed red lines of fire penetrating the ranks of the holographic enemy as it approached. "Our goal will not be to stop them. Our goal is to piss them off and make them _think_ we are trying to stop them."

The green block paused midway across the field.

"Once the enemy force reaches this point, the first tier defense withdraws," Tyrion went on. "The long range weapons on tier two will continue suppression fire until the all of the members of the Gondor defense force is evacuated from the first tier. The first tier force will proceed directly to the top level and board the last frigate."

He paused and looked around the room at the military members of the council. "I cannot emphasize this enough. Any man left behind will be dead. When we release the weapon, there will be nowhere to hide. Evacuate the wounded, or," he stopped and shrugged.

The inference registered and the gazes became solemn.

He indicated the animation, allowing the green mass to move closer to the city, and then stopped it again. "When the enemy reaches this point, the second level forces will withdraw. Once they pass the fourth tier defense teams, they, too, will withdraw to the seventh level. The Hazmat team will deploy the weapon once everyone is clear."

"Now," Tyrion continued. "The enemy's numbers indicate that they would occupy the city up to the fourth level before all of them were within the walls, so, we deploy our weapons on the sixth level."

Tyrion activated another option on his display. "The NV-8 is heavier than air, and, as such, it will follow the flow the streets and architecture down. The gas will pool and eventually flow over dividing walls and down the face of the city."

The animation showed the pale white mist, flowing like a heavy fog down the face of the city obscuring the lower levels.

"Anything in that mist dies," Tyrion said emphatically.

The men at the table watched the animation as the green faded to nothing.

"The gas disperses and breaks down after seventy two hours, becoming harmless," Tyrion finished. "While I recognize that there will be damage to the lower levels of the city, there will be minimal casualties, and no civilian loss of life."

He shrugged. "The cleanup will be the most unpleasant aspect of the operation."

Councilor Ardenth, a middle aged and physically imposing man, leaned back in his chair. "How do you suggest we evacuate the city? Where will these thousands of people go while we fight this battle?"

"It does not matter," Aragorn said. "As long as they are unseen by our enemy they will be safe."

"We have the time to establish camps at a safe distance, within the borders of Rohan and my ships can aid in ferrying evacuees out of the city." Tyrion added. "But we need to start as soon as possible."

The men around the table fell silent and, one by one, they nodded acquiescence toward the king.

"Very well," Aragorn nodded. He gestured for a page to approach. "Have heralds announce the order. The city must empty. No civilian must remain within the walls. Provision our people as best we can from the city stores. Send a messenger to Osgiliath with the same order. When the enemy arrives at Osgiliath, that city must also be empty."

Aragorn dismissed his advisors and the robed men filed from the room.

Tyrion took a deep breath.

"You realize," he began carefully. "That even with the notice, there will be some who refuse to leave. It happens every time something like this comes down the line. Hold outs who believe that they will be safe if they stay within their homes."

Aragorn nodded. "I know. It is unfortunate, but it will happen. We do not have the men needed for a search to assure everyone leaves."

Tyrion offered a grim smile. "You're rat catcher will be out of a job for a while, sir."

Aragorn's expression changed to a more knowing look. "I sense that you have some other errand to discuss, beyond the security of the city's rat catcher?"

Tyrion stepped back to the table and leaned heavily on it. "There is, sir. I'm just not sure I want to ask."

"Where is there harm in the asking?" Aragorn countered. "The very worst would be that I refuse you."

"A part of me is actually hoping that you will refuse me," Tyrion replied. Then he straightened and took a deep breath. "If this attack is repelled and the enemy force is defeated, there is still the stronghold of Angmar to deal with."

Aragorn nodded. "There is that, to be sure. I do not like having so strong an enemy so near to the peaceful west of my kingdom. There would be precious few to stop any aggression from an enemy there."

"So," Tyrion nodded. "Once this is done, can I assume that you plan to march to Angmar and take that stronghold?"

"It has been discussed," Aragorn nodded. "Many of my councilors advise that we should go."

Tyrion resisted an urge to fidget.

"I have rough plan for the taking of that stronghold as well, sir," he began. "But it involves something that I have concerns about."

Aragorn stepped around the table and looked into Tyrion's eyes. "If something troubles you, then you must share it, especially if it may affect our ability to win this war."

Tyrion looked at the slowly revolving image and sighed.

"Up to this point, we have been involved," he began, and then stopped. "We've used our technology in a way that does not give you the opportunity to claim it or acquire it for yourselves."

"You have been very guarded with your gifts, that is true," Aragon nodded. "Even those others who came with you are hesitant to teach what they know."  
"That's intentional, sir," Tyrion admitted. "We have laws that prohibit the sharing of our knowledge with other worlds – worlds that are less – that do not have the," he faltered again.

"It is not like you to be so hesitant, Master Tyrion," Aragorn pressed. "Speak your mind and do not fear to offend."

"With people less advanced than ourselves," Tyrion said. "We have seen – I have seen firsthand the destruction that can bring."

"How so?" Aragorn asked.

Tyrion's voice caught again as that familiar old sin reared its ugly head before him. Then as if someone had burst a dam, the entire story of the Keckopans and his crash landing came pouring out. He told Aragorn of the wounded on his ship, of the naive and friendly people who had offered aid, without suspicion or concern. How they had readily learned the skills needed to aid in the repair of the ship.

He told of the friendships created by the long hours of cooperation and of the mutual feelings of success when the ship was finally ready to resume its journey.

They had left, returned home, continued with their lives, and returned when their tours had been over, only to discover a world with a land rendered barren and a sky blackened by ash and smoke.

"Ten years, sir," Tyrion finished in a shaky voice. "Ten years from the time we left to the time they destroyed themselves. I was the one who gave permission to teach them. I was the one who used those people for my own ends, because the idea of leaving my ship behind, or destroying it was too unthinkable to accept. I traded twenty five lives for millions."

Aragorn seemed to consider that for a moment. Then he looked back at the hologram.

"How does that past event pertain to this?"

"Several of my people have suggested that we take a select group of men from your military and train them in our tactics and weapons," Tyrion replied. "Nothing like what I did with the Keckopans, but full blown combat preparation."

"And you fear that such training would herald the end of all life on this world, just as it did on the other," Aragorn finished for him.

Tyrion nodded. "It's a legitimate concern, sir."

"It is," Aragorn moved slowly back around the table.

"I confess I do not begin to understand the wonders that you take for granted. I would be a fool if I professed otherwise." He vanished around the hologram, and Tyrion could see his shadow moving across the back of the image. "I have no doubt that many weapons you employ could render these lands barren for many generations."

The silhouette stopped opposite Tyrion and turned.

"We are a curious people, Master Tyrion," he continued. "Whether you agree to instruct us or no, we have seen what is possible."

The hologram shrank down as the king manipulated the image. He smiled and pressed the switch. The image vanished as the power was cut.

"We will learn." Aragorn finished with a smile.

He stood up straight, holding the emitter in his hand and looking at it curiously. "I would feel more at ease if we learned under your tutelage instead of walking blindly into these new wonders."

Aragorn walked back around the table to stand in front of Tyrion. He handed the holo-emitter back to the old soldier and nodded.

Tyrion took the item and smiled, the implications of the king's little display of simple knowledge was not lost upon him.

"Okay," he finally nodded. "I will be looking for one hundred and fifty of your best and brightest."

"And these men will become the elite of Gondor?" Aragorn nodded.

"They'll be the elite of Nimloth," Tyrion replied. Aragorn stopped and looked back at him.

Tyrion turned back and frowned. "Majesty?"

"That is an ancient name, Master Tyrion," he said.

"It's also the name that was given, by Felix, to describe your planetary system." Tyrion smiled.

Aragorn resumed walking and nodded. "The ancient kingdom of Numenor was once the greatest in Middle Earth. It fell into the sea countless ages ago. The survivors landed in Middle Earth and took it upon themselves to protect this land. They were known as the Dunedain – my people, Master Tyrion. They have since faded from Middle Earth as my people slowly perish and their ancient blood lines are mingled away."

He put a hand on Tyrion's shoulder and smiled. "It would be good to have the Dunedain return in some other form. The Amhrain – the Rangers of the East?"

Tyrion saw the expectation in Aragorn's eyes and suddenly realized that he would choose wisely. He breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.

The two men exited the throne room and moved out to where Tyrion's two ships were parked.

As they emerged, he spied Nicolla, Hoskins, Silas, and Dade standing near one of the walls, looking down over the city.

"Silas! Nicky!" Tyrion waved them over.

"What's the word Chief?" Silas asked as he came to a halt before him.

"We're a go here," Tyrion ordered. "Have your HazMat team prep the canisters," he turned to Nicolla. "Take Jeeves and head for Isengard, Tell Korbal we'll take the two frigates for the evacuation, plus anyone else he would care to throw into the mix, then hop over to Edoras and let Eomer know he'll have refugees from Gondor crossing his border within the week."

"On it," Silas nodded and turned away.

"Yes, sir," Nicolla smiled, offered a salute that was only half-sincere and then turned toward her vessel.

"Jeeves!" she called. "Time to go!"

"Very well, miss," the Synthoid replied as he moved quickly to escort her.

Two days later, a steady stream of refugees could be seen leaving through the main gates or making their way to the uppermost level to one of the two frigates hovering at the end of the promenade.

The members of the military moved from post to post, preparing weapons and checking long unused trebuchet's for damage, making necessary repairs, and stockpiling ammunition for the coming assault.

Along with the two frigates, fifty of Korbal's armor-clad Paldorians accompanied him to the city to aid in the operation.

Tyrion grinned at the huge alien before him. Two old warriors anticipating battle.

"You realize we aren't actually going to try and win this one, right?" Tyrion asked. The masked head nodded once.

"_We understand!"_

As Tyrion had predicted, some individuals refused to leave their dwellings at first, and for seven days, Aragorn was forced to detach men from the preparations to forcefully remove them and send them towards Rohan.

Minas Tirith became still and silent. Here and there, small animals could be seen darting between buildings or across unused streets.

The Paldorians patrolled the empty streets or perched, watchful, like terrible gargoyles, on the rooftops, eyes gazing north towards the abandoned city of Osgiliath.

By day ten, the entire civilian population had been evacuated. Aragorn ordered all but the selected defense forces to withdraw to Rohan and await him there.

As the last of the regular military boarded the Kajano Frigate, Aragorn turned to his wife.

"Now is the time, Arwen," he said gently.

"I will not be parted from you!" Arwen protested.

Aragorn put a finger to her lips. "It is for a short time only," he consoled her. "Only a short time."

"Swear it to me," she stared fiercely into his eyes. "Swear it."

"I do swear, my love," he held her close. "Only a short time."

She drew back, her eyes downcast. Then she looked up at Tyrion. Her expression blended desperation and threat in equal measure.

"Tend to the king well, Master Tyrion," she said as her eyes welled up.

Tyrion nodded and smiled. "Yes ma'am."

Arwen looked from Tyrion to her husband and sniffed again.

"I am ill used, my lord," she complained.

"Then I shall amend that when I join you," Aragorn laughed gently. He held her hand and escorted her to the boarding ramp. Two of the armor clad Kajano stood, their faceplates following the couple.

Arwen stepped onto the ramp, feeling the gentle tremble of the craft as it hovered over the city.

Aragorn looked to one Kajano and then the other. "Care for my queen, my lords."

One of the Kajano thumped his fist on his chest and the two turned, waiting for Arwen to board the vessel.

She turned to go and then stopped, turning back and pulling Aragorn to her in one long final kiss.

When they parted, her eyes were wide and filled with fear.

"All will be well, Lady," he gestured to the ship. "Go."

She withdrew into the ship, standing between the two Paldorian creatures as the ramp rose and sealed.

The frigate drifted away and turned, moving towards the west as it climbed into the sky.

Tyrion came and stood next to Aragorn.

"In the last twenty years," Aragorn said quietly. "We have spent no more than a few hours apart, and even then, we were within the city."

Tyrion nodded in understanding.

Even as they watched, the second frigate drifted down from the clouds and turned to dock alongside the extended shelf of rock.

When the ramp lowered the familiar figure of Agran stepped onto the stones.

He came to a halt before Tyrion and thumped his fist against his chest.

"Welcome to the party, big guy," Tyrion greeted him. Then he had an idea.

"How do you feel about guard duty?"

The big alien growled menacingly.

"No, no, nothing boring," Tyrion added quickly, looking sidelong at Aragorn.

Agran followed Tyrion's gaze, and the king looked between the two of them.

He seemed about to protest, but Tyrion spoke first.

"The Queen did order me to make sure you were well protected," he smiled, gesturing at the big warrior. "You can't get any more protected than this."

Agran folded his massive arms across his chest and growled again, the yellow eyes of the faceplate flashed as they stared down at Aragorn.

Tyrion patted Agran's shoulder. "Keep an eye on him and make sure he gets on the ship when we bug out."

Agran nodded.

"I need to see to the defense teams," Tyrion continued.

Aragorn nodded and waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal.

Tyrion turned and headed for the entrance gate. He stopped and turned back quickly.

"And Agran?"

The big alien looked at him.

"Don't break the king," Tyrion grinned.

The faceplate turned back to Aragorn and the clicking growl issued once more.

Aragorn smiled and looked after Tyrion. "My Lady is not the only one who is ill used, Master Tyrion!"

The old soldier spun again and executed a courtly bow that bordered on insolent in its execution. "All part of the service, My Lord!"

The walk down to the first level was surreal. Tyrion's footsteps echoed down empty streets. Here and there, he spied flickers of movement as small creatures explored the empty buildings. Somewhere ahead of him, he heard the scream of a cat as it hunted in a nearby alley.

The Hammer and Tongs, a normally raucous pub frequented by members of the military, was eerily silent, the sign above the door creaking as it swung in a gentle breeze.

The upper market square was empty, except for the figure of a Paldorian perched on one of the building summits. Empty carts lined either side of the slightly wider street, and the permanent shops were closed and boarded.

He spied Felix, standing near a section of outer wall on the fourth level and motioned for the young medic to accompany him.

"Strange, isn't it?" Tyrion offered as they continued down the main avenue.

"Fucking creepy, if you ask me," Felix replied. "Hard to believe this place was a bustling community forty-eight hours ago."

"How're the preparations going?"

Felix smiled.

"We set up a line of focused anti personnel mines at the base of the wall to either side of the main gate," Felix gestured with his hands. "The line extends one hundred yards east and west of the gate. Mavon and his team are also deploying anti personnel devices on either side of the main road at the half way point between Osgiliath and us. When the bad guys start to blow up, that'll be our signal to start moving back."

The defense force numbered only five hundred of Gondor's militia, Tyrion's people, Xena, Gabrielle, Gimli, Legolas, and Korbal's fifty Paldorian Knights.

The Gondor militia stood post on the main wall, augmented by half of Tyrion's people. Marton Beck, Nicolla, and Jeeves were stationed on the seventh level, at the palace, nearest to their two Suko Dropships. Beck's co-pilot, Mileasha had been absent when Tyrion had done his inspection tour. When questioned, the sandy haired Beck had only offered a shrug.

"I can fly without her, sir," he offered with a grin.

At the third level, Dorn set up a snipe nest on the balcony of an affluent dwelling at the eastern side of the level, while Prost had chosen a bell tower in a temple on the western side of the level. Both locations gave the two men unobstructed views of the entire field.

Tyrion had located his position somewhere towards the center of the level, in a small watch tower, along a narrow walkway between two civic buildings. He had left his rifle and spotters glasses in the tiny room. The room itself was sparsely furnished with a small bed, table and chair.

Tyrion looked back up and pointed to the three positions. Felix nodded.

"Nice," he nodded.

The first level defense force was housed in the main entrance plaza of the city, and all of them came to attention or paused in their drills when Tyrion and Felix strode into the square

As they moved toward the main gates, which remained open, he saw Mavon, Mileasha, Hoskins, Silas, and Dalton come jogging into the city.

"Well?" he asked, looking sternly at Mileasha. "Aren't you supposed to be up top?"

All the members of the party were dirty up to their elbows, and covered in sweat.

Mileasha blushed slightly and offered an innocent smile.

"We got four tiers of mines, in staggered pattern, armed and prepped," she offered. "It may not slow them down much, but it will wake them up."

Tyrion nodded. "How many mines did you use?"

Mileasha grinned and stepped up next to Mavon. "Every last one of them, sir."

Mavon gestured, sweeping his arm to encompass the entire field.

"The road between here and," he frowned.

"Osgiliath?" Mileasha prompted.

"Yeah, that place," Mavon nodded. "That's the only safe ground. The field on both sides is mined two hundred yards out."

"Two hundred yards?" Tyrion was surprised. "That was quick work."

"She motivates me," Mavon grinned and placed an arm around Mileasha's shoulder.

The blonde woman grinned and jabbed him in the ribs.

Tyrion looked past Mavon and saw Felix grin. He pointed at Mavon and Mileasha and then held both index fingers up, bringing them together as he grinned.

Tyrion got the message, looked back at the couple, and then the rest of the demolitions team.

"Nice job, people," he said. "Grab some chow and clean up, then take it easy. It should be pretty quiet for the time being."

"Yes, sir," Mavon offered a salute and he led the rest of the team towards the assembled ranks.

Felix stepped next to Tyrion and watched the team depart.

"Those two have been hitting it off rather well," he commented as he watched Mileasha and Mavon disappear into the bathhouse.

"Oh?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

Felix smiled. "He kissed her when she picked us up, she immediately threw him against the bulkhead," he sighed. "It's been true love ever since."

Tyrion laughed.

"It could work," Felix laughed. "She won't deal with any of his bullshit and she's got the stones to kick the snot out of him if he gets out of line."

Tyrion considered and the nodded in approval.

Felix raised an eyebrow. "This would be a bad time to mention a certain double standard, right?"

Tyrion looked back at Felix and offered a cautioning stare. Then his expression softened.

"Gabs has been good for you," he admitted. "And from what Xena's told me, you've been good for her."

"Really?" Felix let his mouth drop open in mock surprise.

"Don't push it," Tyrion held up a finger. "Carry on."

"Aye aye, Mater Chief, sir," Felix grinned and saluted.

The air was hot, humid and filled with steam from the heated water in the long, stone baths. The room held four of the recessed pools in a large arched chamber. Braziers burned, heating rocks upon which water was poured to generate the refreshing steam and other larger ovens heated pails of water, which was added to the pools to keep them hot. The locals moved to and from the baths, some nude, others – the more affluent, wrapped in white linen fabric, while the otherworldly visitors stepped to and from the steaming water wrapped in large, thirsty modern towels.

Gabrielle let he head lean back against the edge of the tub, the aches of the days labors slowly easing from her limbs. Across from her, Xena reclined in similar fashion. The two of them had been in charge of securing and moving ammunition to the lower level trebuchets in anticipation of the coming attack.

Nearby, Mileasha snuggled next to Mavon, her head resting on his chest as they also soaked in the steaming water.

Gabrielle looked over at the two and smiled as she caught Xena's attention and indicated the pair.

Xena looked over at Mavon and Mileasha and smiled, looking back at Gabrielle.

"It's strange, when you think about it," Gabrielle offered suddenly.

"What is?" another voice asked from behind her.

Felix let the towel around his waist fall away and slid into the water.

"Hello, Felix," Xena nodded.

"Hey, Xe," Felix greeted. Then he turned back to Gabrielle. "Well?"

Gabrielle smiled and slid closer to Felix. "Here we are, sitting in a bath house, relaxing away, and in two days – less than two days," she let the statement fall away.

"Beats a surprise attack in the middle of using a latrine," Felix offered with a grin.

Gabrielle elbowed him in the ribs, "You know what I mean."

"Pretend I don't," Felix asked honestly.

"Usually, defenders don't have time to prepare," Xena offered. "The attacking army sets the time table. If done right, the enemy doesn't know we're there until we come over the hill, or, better yet, we're in the middle of them."

"Ah," Felix nodded. "Whereas with us it's a game of 'Follow Best'."

Gabrielle looked up, frowning.

"Follow Best?" Xena asked.

"Well, that's what we call it," Felix offered. He let his arm wrap around Gabrielle's shoulders and smiled. "You follow best by following from the front."

Xena smiled. "I get it."

"I don't," Gabrielle looked back and forth between the two of them.

Mavon grinned. "You lead the bastards on a merry chase. You set up obstacles, provide false intelligence, see how the enemy reacts, choose the time and place, and then you set them up and blast them."

"It works great when the enemy doesn't have any nasty surprises," Xena added. "As long as your information is right, you can do as you like."

"What happens when the information is wrong?" Gabrielle asked lightly.

"You lose," Mavon offered soberly.

Felix gave Gabrielle a reassuring squeeze around the shoulders. "We know where they are, we know how many of them there is, we know how long it will take for them to get here, and we know which direction they're going to be coming from."

"Plus, all of our experience with them has given us a pretty good idea of their capabilities," Mavon grinned. "Game, set and match."

"Boring," Mileasha said from Mavon's side. She slid forward a few feet, dunked her head under the water and came back up, smoothing the golden strands back. "If all you're going to talk about is war and tactics, then I'm going to bed."

She pulled herself from the pool and wrapped a towel around her body.

Then she leaned down next to Mavon's ear and smiled.

"Coming?" She stood and turned to leave.

"Not yet," Mavon shot back as he also rose from the water and followed her.

Gabrielle and Xena rolled their eyes and Felix groaned.

"That was crass, man!" Felix called after him. "Even for you!"

"Nag, nag," Mavon replied with a dismissive wave as he departed.

Mavon emerged in the chill of the evening air, buttoning his shirt as he followed Mileasha towards their quarters, a room at one of the inns along the outer wall of the city. She had not even bothered to dress, slipping her boots loosely over her feet and slinging the rest of her clothing over one shoulder. She paused at the doorway, turned, smiled seductively, and vanished within.

It had only been a short time, but their mutual interest had blossomed into romance with a suddenness that had surprised them at first. After the first night in Rivendell, they had agreed that they would just see where it went. Right now, it was heading towards their room and another night of wild passion.

"Oh yeah," Mavon grinned. He followed her into the inn, went up the stairs and opened the door to their small room. She knelt on the bed, nude, with a flagon of wine in one hand and two goblets in the other.

"Want to party, mister?" she asked in a husky voice.

He grinned as he closed the door and began unfastening his shirt. "Absolutely."

Xena looked across the water at the remaining couple and smiled.

Gabrielle caught the look and grinned back.

"What?" she asked, a little embarrassed.

"It's just good to see you happy again," Xena offered.

Gabrielle looked up at Felix and then back at Xena, and her smile widened.

Xena moved to step out of the water. "It's long overdue."

She pulled herself clear of the tub and wrapped her own towel about her.

She headed for the exit.

"Not too late you two. We have a war to plan tomorrow," Xena said as she left the room.

"Yes, mommy," Felix called after her.

He looked behind them at the other three pools. There were still a few people resting in them, but for the moment, their pool was devoid of any other bathers.

Someone rose from the water and doused the heated rocks releasing a fresh cloud of thick steam that obscured Felix and Gabrielle from the rest of the patrons.

As Felix brought his head back around from his observation he turned right into Gabrielle's kiss.

"Hello," Felix smiled when they parted.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and smiled. "Hi."

She kissed him again as she shifted around and on top of his lap.

Xena strode towards the pickets on the outer wall. She spied the massive bulk of Silas and Hoskins standing near one of the burning braziers. Next to them, the stocky shape of the dwarf, Gimli, leaned against the wall, while Legolas leaned against the rampart, his eyes focused out towards the field. The shadows of the night sentries stood motionless in the darkness, eyes focused outward at the shadowed field and the pale structures of Osgiliath glowing in the moonlight. Here and there she caught whispered conversations.

She climbed the steps and stopped next to the two big men.

"Hey Xe," Silas greeted. "Thought you'd be sacked out?"

Xena shrugged. "I was relaxing in the bath house, but the pool started to feel a little crowded."

"Oh?" Hoskins' eyebrows rose.

Silas chuckled. It sounded like soft thunder. "Felix and Little Bit?"

Xena nodded and smiled.

"There's a surprise," Silas shook his head, smiling.

"I've been meaning to ask," Xena said suddenly. "Why do you keep calling Gabrielle, Little Bit?"

Silas grinned and there was fond memory in his expression. "I used to call Lynette that, a long time ago."

Hoskins also grinned.

Lynette," Xena repeated. "Tyrion's daughter."

Silas nodded. "It's a little freaky, really. Every time I see your friend, my brain just clicks," he snapped is fingers, "That's Lynette."

"Hell," Hoskins added. "First time I laid eyes on her, I would have sworn that was the Chief's kid."

Hoskins smile morphed into something more rueful. "And with Doc and her,"

"Stop right there," Silas interrupted.

Hoskins grinned. "It's a little strange, sometimes."

"Seeing Doc with normal eyes again is a little strange," Silas added.

"That too," Hoskins nodded.

"Where's Tyrion?" Xena asked.

"Back up on level three," Hoskins offered helpfully.

"I thought he was coordinating the defenses down here?" Xena asked.

"He is," Hoskins affirmed. "From the third level."

Xena frowned.

"He set up a sniper nest up there," Silas answered the unspoken question. He turned and pointed to the small tower.

Xena nodded, understanding. Then she smiled at the four men.

"I'm surprised you aren't out," she smiled.

"Please!" Silas laughed. "Ain't no more women in the whole damn city!"

"I think we scare them when they are here," Hoskins added. "We aren't exactly slim, if you take my meaning?"

"You're built like Atlas, you mean?" Xena laughed.

"If he was a big fucker, then yes," Silas replied, still laughing. He reached into his vest and pulled out a large flask. "Want a hit?"

"You're a good man, Si," Hoskins accepted the flask gratefully. "I've always said that about you."

He took a swallow, winced and handed the flask back. Silas also took a drink and offered the flask to Xena.

Xena accepted the flask without thinking and took a drink. The alcohol set her throat on fire and she stifled a cough as she passed the flask to Gimli.

"Gods!" she gasped. "What is that stuff?"

Gimli sniffed cautiously, then shrugged and tipped the flask back before handing the container back to its owner.

Silas took another drink and handed the flask back to Hoskins.

"Nothing but the best," he smiled. "It always hits you hardest the first time."

Xena accepted the flask from Hoskins and took a second drink, wincing as she tried to accept the burning in her throat.

"Welcome aboard," Silas said seriously. He took the flask back and stowed it in his vest.

She opened her mouth to ask a question when there was a sudden, brilliant orange flash out in the field between Osgiliath and the wall.

Then a second flash, and a third. The dull thuds of the detonations reverberated against the stones and in their guts.

"What the hell?" Hoskins asked, stepping towards the parapet.

Suddenly the entire field seemed to light up with scattered explosions. In the flashing shadows they could see shapes running across the grass.

Silas tapped his com. "Snipers! What have you got?"

Hoskins turned and shouted. "Muster the troops! All hands to the wall!"

The order was relayed from building to building even as the first shots from the second tier echoed off the stones.

"Well, this is a fine how do you do," Dorn muttered as he shifted his aim to another large and vaguely humanoid shape. He sighted, relaxed, breathed and squeezed the trigger again, watching as that figure spun away.

In his ear, Prost was filling in the big black Lieutenant in on the situation.

"…large group, number unknown," Prost was saying.

Prost's rifle report echoed through the empty buildings as Dorn slid forward closer to the window of the tower room that was serving as his nest.

"Don't know what the hell they are, Master Chief," Dorn added. "But they aren't sapiens."

He sighted and fired, taking down two with one shot.

"Just keep taking them down," Tyrion's voice came over the coms. "Heavy weapons, prepare to fire."

"They're called orcs, Dorn," Silas called back as he and Hoskins stepped to the edge of the wall on either side of Legolas.

"They are there!" Legolas pointed into the shadows.

"So many of them, you can't miss," Prost offered.

"Yeah," Dorn agreed. "Too many for us though."

"We got it covered," came Roscoe Dalton's voice. "Just keep sniping away. We'll be right there."

"Yeah, yeah," Dorn shifted aim and fired, shifted aim, fired, shifted aim, fired.

Marton Becks voice called over the com. "Flares going up and out!"

Instantly three brilliant green white trails shot skyward away from the city's outer wall. They burst into blinding light high above the field and revealed a small horde of orcs, running pell mell across the field towards the city.

"Dalton!" Hoskins ordered. "Get your ass moving!"

He looked over to Silas.

"Ready Hoss?" Silas called.

"Hit them hard," Hoskins grinned and the two men opened up on the approaching enemy.

The wall was suddenly lit by the staccato bursts of light as tracers flashed across the distance and buried themselves in bodies that shuddered and convulsed as they fell.

"Fire in the hole!" Daltons voice rang out.

A brilliant plume of yellow smoke and fire went sailing over their heads from somewhere on the second tier, The trail struck in the center of a large cluster of creatures and the resulting explosion threw enemies, bodies and portions of enemy bodies in a fountain of death.

A second missile roared over the wall defender's heads and impacted another cluster of survivors.

"Out!" Hoskins called. "Reloading!"

At the same moment, the counter on Silas's rifle reached zero.

"Out!" he called. "Reloading!"

"Firing!" Hoskins called and his weapon thundered back to life.

"Firing!" Silas called and his own rifle joined the chaos.

"Fire in the hole!" Dalton's voice called again and two more missiles, fired from a pair of shoulder mounted launchers, screamed overhead and exploded amidst the enemy.

One of the sergeants of Gondor stepped forward.

"Archers!" he ordered. "Aim!"

Five hundred bows were drawn taught.

"Wait!" The sergeant shouted. "Wait!" He stared out into the flashes of fire and then saw the first of the enemy coming into view. He adjusted the aim of his arm; saw the archers all adjust accordingly.

"Loose!" he swung his arm down.

Five hundred bows twanged and five hundred arrows sped off into the flickering shadows of the dying flares.

"Draw!" the sergeant called, watching as his archers prepared to fire again. "Loose!"

Then Tyrion's voice was in their ears, calm and reassuring.

"Missiles, hold your fire," he ordered. "Give me a flare."

"Got it!" Mavon's voice rang out. A moment later, another flare rose from the wall and burst into life.

"Heavy guns," Tyrion called again. "Cease fire."

Hoskins and Silas stopped firing and stood up from behind their weapons to stare out at the garishly lit carnage below.

"Snipers," Tyrion continued. "Scan the field below. If it moves, put a shot into it."

"You got it, sir," Prost replied.

"Defense team, stand down," Tyrion ordered.

Silas turned around to find Xena and Gimli leaning against the rear wall, by the fire.

He frowned.

"That was very exciting," Gimli offered.

"You seemed to be doing fine?" Xena offered. Then she smiled and Silas began to chuckle.

For a while, the sniper rifles cracked as the two sharpshooters found wounded or dying orcs that moved in the shadows.

In a small, furnished watchtower on the fourth level, Tyrion lowered his field glasses and looked out at the expanse before the city. Tiny wisps of smoke rose, like tendrils in the deeper shadows, showing where the mines had detonated, or the missiles had impacted on the otherwise flat terrain.

"That was unexpected," he said quietly.

He turned back and looked at Nicolla, lying beneath the blanket on the bed.

"You sure you didn't see anything when you were on your return trip?" he asked as he stepped back to the bed and sat down on the edge.

Nicolla stretched and sat up, leaning against his back.

"No," she shook her head as she gazed out at the starry sky. "There wasn't anything."

She wrapped her arms around Tyrion's shoulders and kissed his neck. When Tyrion did not respond, she pulled herself forward and looked at him. "What?"

Tyrion pursed his lips in thought. "Something's not right."

Nicolla could sense the thoughts running through his head. She raised an eyebrow.

"What are you thinking?" she asked.

"You can't tell?" he replied, looking back at her.

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. "Not unless you give me permission."

He reached up and put a hand over hers.

He blinked. "Everyone's feeling pretty complacent right about now."

Nicolla shrugged.

"Relaxed? Lazy?" Tyrion continued.

Nicolla smiled. "I wouldn't consider what we just did relaxed."

A small flicker of light appeared in the deeper shadows that were the abandoned buildings of Osgiliath.

He stepped over to the table and scooped up his spotters glasses and com unit.

"All units," he called over the channel. "Check North!"

Through the glasses he saw the tiny speck magnified into a flicker of flame.

Then a second flame leapt up followed by a third, and a fourth. In the flames, Tyrion saw the shadows of figures darting between the structures.

"Looks like someone's having a bonfire," Felix's voice was the first to report in.

"Defense teams," Tyrion called as he pulled his uniform on. "To your positions! Hazmat team, stand by."

He turned back to see Nicolla pulling her flight suit back on.

"Get back to your ship and get it prepped," he ordered.

She nodded and grabbed her flight bag as she strode from the small chamber.

"Flight crews, to your stations," Tyrion heard Dade's voice over the channel.

Almost immediately, the party began checking in as they set themselves at their assigned positions.

"Silas," Tyrion called. "I want Xena, Gabs, and Gimli on level three. Have Xena coordinate the rear guard."

"Roger that," The big man replied.

Silas motioned over to Xena and Gimli. The two came to stand beside him.

"Chief wants you two and Little Bit on the third level."

Xena, nodded and turned to go, while Gimli folded his hands across his chest.

"And why am I not to stay and defend the walls?"

"Because we aren't defending these walls," Silas explained. "And because you don't run as fast as the rest of us, that's why."

Hoskins gestured at the axe hanging against the dwarf's back.

"You end up using that, and we're screwed." He added.

Xena understood and also nodded, placing a hand on the dwarf's armored shoulder.

"Come on, Gimli," she said. "I could use some help keeping everything in order up there."

"Check north! Check north!" Dorn's voice blurted across the channel.

Everyone turned and looked. The entire city of Osgiliath was enveloped in sheets of flame. In the shimmering light of the fires, they could see an army approaching.

The deepening shadow that was countless creatures seemed to flow across the further end of the field like dark water.

"Stand to your weapons, boys!" Hoskins ordered.

Xena found Gabrielle emerging from the inn where she and Felix had been spending the previous few hours.

"Come on, Gabrielle!" she called.

The two women and the dwarf moved through the deserted streets, up to the central command area on the third floor.

They found Tyrion, now positioned on a balcony that overlooked the Pelannor.

His spotter's glasses were jammed against his eyes as he slowly panned it across the approaching horde.

"Long distance projectiles," he called. "Safeties off! Stand by!"

"Tyrion?" Xena announced as she stepped out onto the balcony.

"Gimli?" Tyrion said. "Would you please escort Gabrielle to the king's level and have her assist Nicolla, then attach yourself to the King's protection detail. Make sure his Highness is ready to move out."

Gimli considered the importance of the order and finally nodded as if to assert that the orders were worthy of him.

"Come along, lass," he gestured to Gabrielle.

"I can help here," Gabrielle protested.

"I need you to make sure the council and the king get off this rock, baby," Tyrion countered quickly.

Gabrielle looked over at Xena for confirmation, and the Warrior Princess nodded.

"Go on Gabrielle," she said. "You understand their stuff better than I ever will."

That little compliment seemed to placate her and she nodded.

"Be careful," she said.

She allowed herself to be led from the balcony and the two of them vanished around the nearby corner.

Xena waited until she was certain that her best friend was out of earshot. "Okay, you've managed to get her out of harm's way."

Tyrion grunted.

"And you've managed to get me out of the way," Xena continued, folding her arms across her chest.

Tyrion lowered the spotter's glasses and frowned. "Out of the way?" he asked.

Xena nodded.

Tyrion smiled. "I need you to coordinate the evacuation of the lower levels."

Xena stepped forward, her curiosity piqued.

Tyrion opened a parchment map of that level of the city.

"We've blocked all the access points on this level except this one here, at the far eastern side of the city."

Tyrion indicated the gate on the map.

"That's the path our people are going to use to retreat," Tyrion explained as his gaze alternated between the parchment on his desk and the approaching shadow on the plains below.

"I'm anticipating a smooth retreat, but I expect something hinky to happen, so I need you to keep this gate open as long as possible."

He looked up into her eyes. "Once you see the enemy come into site at this alley, here," he jabbed his finger down on the spot. "Get the last few people out, seal the gate and high tail it up to the fifth level, with me?"

She nodded. "What happens next?

"Fifth level is the next place I need to hold," Tyrion went on, pointing at another access point, two levels higher. "Hold this gate here until you get the all clear from Felix, then run for the ships. You'll have only minutes to get from the fifth level to the ships."

Xena nodded.

Tyrion tapped his com. "Doc! You and Ross in position yet?"

"Standing by, Master Chief," Roscoe's voice replied calmly. "Weapon is primed and ready."

"Confirmed Ross," Tyrion replied. "Doc?"

When he replied, Tyrion could hear that he was out of breath.

"Weapon number two is primed and ready," he said.

"What took so long?" Tyrion asked.

Felix looked back up the road and caught a final glimpse of Gabrielle and Gimli as they turned the corner. He smiled.

"Got a little turned around on the way here, Chief," he lied. "I guess I'm not as familiar with this place as I thought."

He gazed out beyond a nearby house and watched the growing light of dawn as it revealed the masses assembling on the field below.

Frowning, he crossed through the abandoned house and stepped out onto a rear balcony, raising a pair of spotters glasses to his eyes and adjusting the resolution.

"Chief?" he asked. "Is there anything about the formation approaching that strikes you as odd?"

"What do you mean?" Tyrion's voice replied.

Felix lowered the glasses, squinting as he studied the horde, then he raised them again.

It took a few moments before he realized what he was seeing.

"It looks like they actually have organized ranks, Chief," he said. "You have to really look, but there are disciplined formations mixed in the mess. The loose groups moving between them are hiding the fact that they're there."

"Son of a bitch," Prost added. "Sir, he's correct. I have parade formations hidden within the general masses."

Felix was watching the masses below and his stomach churned in anticipation.

"And one more thing, Chief," he continued. "Check the south western formation and tell me if I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing?"

He adjusted the resolution as far as it would go and focused on the anomalous group.

He sighed when he recognized the massive bulk, demonic eyes and external jaw structure.

"Fucking Kajanos," Prost whispered in horror.

The weapons were primitive, the armor was simple, thick metal plates, but there was no mistaking the figures equipped in the orcish material.

"Notify Korbal," Tyrion ordered. "Inform him that we have some form of Kaj offshoot mingled with the enemy."

"Chief," Felix continued. "They're stationed in line with the main gate. If they're half as rambunctious as their modern counterparts, we could have an issue."

"Understood. Long range ordinance, prepare to fire," Tyrion said calmly. "Range, thirty seven hundred meters."

Felix held the glasses to his eyes and reduced the magnification until he had a good view of the enemy.

"Thirty six hundred," Tyrion continued calmly. "I want the first two shots in the middle of their formation."

The acknowledgments came back instantly.

"Thirty five hundred," Tyrion continued. "Go for weapons lock."

"I have lock," Ieasha said a few moments later, then Mileasha, sounding exactly like her sister also called in.

"Stand by," Tyrion called. "And…Fire!"

One shoulder mounted missile fired from the third level, arcing through the air and leaving a soft trail of white smoke as it descended towards the center of the forward masses.

The second trail erupted from the forward battlements on the first level. Shooting out into a second area of the forward formation. The two explosions lit up the surrounding area as bodies and equipment were vaporized or sent spinning off into the darkness.

"Mileasha!" Tyrion called angrily. "What in the hell are you doing on level one?"

"Reloading, sir," Mileasha replied.

"God dammit! You're supposed to be on the third level with your sister!"

"Reloaded and ready," Ieasha called, or was it Mileasha who had spoken? Then the other voice also called in ready.

"Fire!"

The two weapons fired again, and more bodies were blasted into fragments as the two missiles exploded.

"You're supposed to be on the eastern face of level three so you can make the dash to your ship, Vas!" Tyrion blurted.

"Yes, sir," Mileasha's voice replied. "Ready to fire."

"Ready, sir," Iesha Called as well.

Tyrion cursed under his breath. "Fire!"

The fifth and sixth missiles exploded, creating a gruesome shower of bodies and blood.

"Mileasha!" Tyrion ordered. "Pull out now and head for your ship! Iesha, give me another one, center mass, just east of the main gates!"

"But," Mileasha's voice protested.

"Move it!" Tyrion ordered angrily.

Another trail burst from the third level and exploded where Tyrion had instructed.

"Twenty eight hundred meters," Tyrion called. On either side of him, Prost and Dorn's sniper rifles began to crack as they shot into the enemy.

"They'll hit the rest of the mines at around twenty five hundred," Mileasha offered.

"Are you moving yet?" Tyrion asked.

When there was no immediate reply, he lost his temper. Xena started at the outburst.

"Dammit, I said to move out! Get your little ass in gear, girl!" He was furious. The whole plan counted on the two vehicles parked on the uppermost level of the city and one of the flight crews was about as far away from her vehicle as she could be, in the middle of a defense that was designed to crumble.

"What are the Kaj doing?" he asked.

"Ours or theirs?" Felix asked.

"Ours!" Tyrion blurted.

"I don't see them," Dorn called. "We fired that first salvo and they all vanished."

"I got nothing," Prost agreed.

The first of the remaining mines blew, their explosions muffled and masked by the mass of bodies around them.

"Twenty five hundred meters!" Tyrion called. "First tier, prepare to withdraw."

From the second and fourth levels, the trebuchet's released their first projectiles towards the enemy. The massive stones fell among the tightly packed horde, rolling furrows in the formation and spraying black blood as the crushed orcs and trolls, unable to scatter aside.

Another missile detonated near the western side of the formation, in the midst of the orcish Kajano formation, then a second missile launched from somewhere on the eastern side of the second tier.

"Vas!" Tyrion roared. "Quit fucking off and get up to your ship!"

Shimmering blue coronas of light rippled up and down the main wall as the soldiers withdrew.

The fifty unmasked Paldorians stood along the ramparts on either side of the main gate, let out a bellow of rage and opened fire. Blue tracers of energy blasted into the front most ranks of orcs, maiming and killing as the troops behind merely stepped over or around the dead and dying.

The enemy, seeing the weapons for the first time, struggled to maintain their cohesion, but every moment in their ranks was a moment they were being murdered by the enemy, and the crossbow men, far beyond the range of their crude weapons, broke ranks and began loping forward to close the distance and respond to the devastating onslaught.

Upon seeing this, the orcish Kajano also broke ranks and began running for the main gate, weapons raised defiantly.

The Paldorians on the wall spied them for the first time, and as if the presence of those off shoots was somehow offensive, their combined fire turned and concentrated on the formation.

Tyrion watched as the formation as decimated by the fire. Despite horrendous losses, the beasts continued their charge. At the same time, the crossbow men reached a point where they could begin to return fire, and bolts began peppering the wall where the defenders stood.

The Paldorians maintained their fire, some of them turning their weapons back on the other enemies as the remainder of Gondor's soldiers evacuated the first level.

The troops could be seen marching along the second tier avenues.

"All yours, Xe," Tyrion nodded at her. "Grab whatever men you need from the defense force and get ready."

Xena nodded and departed.

The entire mass paused for a moment once they were three hundred paces from the walls, before giving a deafening cry. The entire horde surged forward, all cohesion lost.

The Paldorians on the wall ceased their fire and vanished from sight.

The walls suddenly before them and undefended, the enemy swarmed across the field and threw its entire weight against the gates. Within moments, they were thrown down and the enemy began flooding into the city.

"Okay people," Tyrion called. "The guests are arriving. Time to get clear. Felix, take over observation duties, Snipers, pull out and head for level five positions. Confirm."

"Roger that Chief," Felix replied.

"Understood," Dorn answered, while at the same time, Prost replied. "Wilco."

Tyrion stowed his glasses, slung his pack and picked up his sniper rifle. He gave the area one final check, making sure he hadn't left anything behind, and then jogged back to the main avenue and up towards the fourth level.

Xena stood outside the access gate of the third level and waited. Below, she could hear the cries of battle as the enemy filled the entrance below.

The first of the trebuchet crews appeared at the far end of the street.

"Come on!" she drew her sword and waved to them. "Get moving!"

The men rushed past her, fear evident in their expressions as she chivied them past her and on towards the upper levels.

At the end of that group, she saw Mileasha, lugging the shoulder mounted launcher and stumbling from the exertion.

"Come on!" she called again, running towards the girl and taking the cumbersome hardware from her arms. "You sure know who to pick em!"

Mileasha winced as much from the exertion as the statement.

"That bad?"

Xena smiled fiercely. "I'd move a lot faster if I were you."

They reached the gate and Xena set the launcher to the side.

"I'll have someone else bring this up. Get moving!"

The first of the lowest level defense force began appearing around the corner. As they streamed past, Xena selected twenty of them to form a rear guard. They stood at either side of the gate, waiting.

Silas, Hoskins, and Mavon emerged in the midst to the retreating forces.

Somewhere below, the staccato thump of an explosion sounded and Mavon grinned.

The two big men with their powerful rifles stopped just outside and to either side of the gate, kneeling and pointing their weapons towards the bend.

Another thump, and then a third and a fourth in rapid succession sounded below amidst the inhuman howls and screams.

"Looks like they found your presents, Mave," Silas grinned fiercely.

Mavon smiled.

As the last of the defense team rounded the corner, Xena saw the first of the enemy mingled within them, hacking and slashing at the stragglers.

A man stumbled to one side as an orc back cut his blade across his face. He dripped to his knees, screaming before a second beast rammed a long bladed pike through his back.

Two more men were overwhelmed by a group of orcs and fell, screaming as they were savaged by knives and bare claws.

"Come on! Come on!" Xena shouted as she pushed several stragglers past her and stepped forward.

"Hit em!" Hoskins bellowed and the two heavy rifles began thumping, sending red bolts of death down the avenue.

Despite the firepower, several enemies somehow survived the onslaught and charged the gate.

Xena cut down a large orc captain, turning and deflecting a spear thrust from another creature before Hoskins stood and slammed the butt of is rifle into the snarling face.

"Time to go!" he shouted.

Silas stepped back, fanning his weapon back and forth across the street as he laid down a continuous burst of fire until they were beyond the heavy gate.

The men beyond pushed the gates closed and wedged them with a massive timber.

"Hold it!" Xena called to them, reaching past several bodies to place her hands upon the wood.

Something slammed into the gate from the other side and the entire group shifted back and forward like a wave.

"Hold!" Xena ordered.

"Boss!" Silas called. "They're knocking at the door!"

Another blow against the gates caused them to shudder even more.

Tyrion set up hi sniper position, looking down at the small crowd holding the gate closed.

"Lead in position," he called. "Dorn, Prost, what's your status?"  
"In position," Dorn replied.

"Ready," Prost added.

"Iesha?" Tyrion continued.

"Lined up and ready, sir," the young woman replied.

Tyrion watched as the gate shook a third time, and some of the men holding it were actually knocked off their feet.

"We need to let them in, Boss," Silas called.

Tyrion counted to ten and then raised the rifle, centering on the archway.

"NOW!" he shouted.

"Go! Go! Go!" Silas bellowed and the entire company turned and fled up the street.

The gate shuddered once, twice, and then on the third strike, the timber holding it shut splintered and the gates banged open.

"Vas!" Tyrion shouted.

A single trail of smoke burst from the top of a nearby temple, arced down the avenue, through the open archway and detonated somewhere beyond. It was a difficult shot with a missile, and Tyrion was impressed when he saw the cloud of fire, blood, and body components burst from between the buildings beyond.

"Hundred credits says you can't do that again," Prost offered.

"Watch me," Iesha replied, and a few moments later, a second missile followed the arc of the first and detonated even further down the avenue, wreaking more horror on the enemy.

Several figures staggered from the smoke, only to fall under the carefully placed shots of Dorn and Prost.

"Third time's a charm, Miss Vas," Tyrion offered before he fired and felled a dazed Orc Captain."

A third missile whistled past his position and struck the top of the archway, sending lethal chunks of masonry down the avenue.

"Dammit!" Iesha cried in dismay.

"Good enough," Tyrion said quickly as he took down another enemy. "Silas, what's your status.

"Passing level five access gate now!" Silas replied.

"Dorn, Prost, pull out," Tyrion ordered. "Felix, Ross, prime the weapons."

Beyond his position, Tyrion heard the sound of retreating feet. He fired again, taking down several more enemy and then saw the mass of orcs begin flooding through the remains of the narrow gate.

"Enemy has breached level three," Tyrion reported. "Have the king and his councilors board the aircraft now, Hazmat, prepare to deploy, snipers to level seven positions, everyone else, evac to drop ships!"

He stood, fired one more shot, and ran for the street.

Up on the seventh level, the remaining soldiers of Gondor quickly boarded the hovering Kajano frigate while the king and the few advisors that had remained with him, entered Nicolla's drop ship.

"Welcome aboard gentlemen," Jeeves said cordially. "Please find a seat quickly." His manner was so genial and polite that no one would have suspected there was a war going on just several streets away.

The synthoid moved down the row of seats and quickly attached the safety harnesses in position before retiring to his position in the co-pilot seat.

"All set?" Nicolla asked.

"Yes, Miss," Jeeves replied.

Nicolla keyed her com. As she began spooling the engines up.

"We're just waiting on you honey," she called.

Mileasha crashed through the small hatch and practically fell into the co-pilot seat behind Marton.

"Hey!" the sandy haired pilot greeted her. "Glad you could make it."

Mileasha was breathing too hard to offer a retort. Instead, she began going through an abbreviated safety check.

"What's the count?" Marton asked.

"We have everyone!" Mileasha gasped.

"Suko Two!" Tyrion ordered. "Launch now!"

"On our way," Marton replied, and the ship lifted from the cobblestones and arced up and over the face of the mountain towards the sea.

"The enemy has breached level five!" Felix called out as he saw the final gate burst inward. "I repeat, the enemy has breached level five!"

From their positions on the seventh level, Tyrion, Dorn, and Prost fired down into the masses. As the remaining stragglers ran past them towards the frigate.

The level six avenue beneath them was finally deserted.

"Hazmat team, arm the weapons, five minute count on my mark," he looked down at his chrono and nodded. "Five, four, three, two, one, mark!"

"Armed!" Felix called.

"Clock's ticking," Ross also reported.

"Run your asses off guys!" Tyrion ordered.

The three snipers withdrew along with the last of the soldiers.

Tyrion ran to the loading ramp of Nicolla's ship and waited, looking back down towards the palace.

"Three minutes!" he called. He watched as the last of the soldiers stumbled up the loading ramp of the frigate and the hatch closed. The ship turned and moved across the sky, away from Minas Tirith.

Felix and Ross came around the corner at a dead sprint.

"Gotta go! Gotta go!" Tyrion waved them towards the ship. Internally, he prayed the gate between level five and six was still holding.

Felix and Roscoe practically threw themselves onto the ramp as Tyrion stepped up.

"Go, Nicky!" Tyrion shouted as he hit the ramp controls.

The last ship rose skyward and arced around to the south, following Marton's flight path.

Once they passed the crest of the mountain, Nicolla took the ship east, circling the mountain.

Tyrion appeared in the access hatch behind Jeeve's seat, and looked out at the land passing beneath them.

"Thirty seconds," Tyrion checked his chrono.

As the ship came around the southern end of the mountain, Nicolla watched two pale plumes of gas burst up from somewhere on the sixth level.

It cascaded gracefully down back towards the lower levels and flowed gently down the streets, draping the upper levels in pale fog.

Down on the Pelannor Fields, the fifty Paldorian Knights had created a skirmish line covering the main gate. Pale blue flashes of energy concentrated on that area, killing anything the fled the city. Some of the enemy, fearful of trying to escape through the main gate, hurled themselves from the walls, dropping to the packed earth below. Bodies, leapt, flailed, bounced, and lay still until the layer of bodies began to act as a cushion for other panicking creatures.

Nicolla nodded in approval as the cloud flowed down over the fourth and into the third level.

"Hadn't thought of that," Tyrion indicated the slaughter at the gates.

Within the mist, they observed the vague shapes of bodies writhing on the streets or clawing at walls.

Many were fleeing back down the second tier towards the main level as the mist flowed over the third floor walls and fell gently over them.

They fell almost immediately, their nervous systems in complete rebellion as they tried to draw air with lungs that were filling with blood.

The Paldorians, seeing the approaching mists, turned and withdrew, vanishing from sight as their cloaking fields engaged.

A scattering of survivors who had leapt from the walls onto the bodies of the comrades began to die as the cloaked Paldorians appeared among them, shot, sliced, or stabbed, vanished, and appeared again.

Nicolla watched the horror below and suppressed a shudder.

"Get us to the camps," Tyrion ordered.

The ship arced away from the terrible fountain and headed west across the great river Anduin.

They set down in a large field miles within the protected borders of Rohan. They had seen another of the roving bands of horsemen moving east towards the river. Their spear points shimmered in the sunlight.

The ship turned gently and descended to an area near two of the three Kajano frigates.

As they slowed to a hover over a cleared area, they saw Hoskins signaling with his hands, gesturing them to set down nearer to their second drop ship.

Nicolla expertly turned and drifted the ship back, watching as Hoskins, through gestures, guided her down.

A second Kajano frigate lifted from the plain and turned west back towards the fortress tower of Isengard, vanishing as it rose into some low clouds.

The passengers emerged onto the rolling plains of Rohan. The grasses bent and waved in the myriad of drifting wind and engine backwashes.

As Xena and Gabrielle emerged, Gabrielle paused, staring at a small formation of rocks nearby.

Felix stepped up next to the two women as Gabrielle smiled ruefully.

"Unbelievable," she commented.

Xena and Felix looked at the young bard and then at the series of sun bleached stone.

"What?" Xena asked.

"We're back where we started," Gabrielle nodded to the stones. "Literally, right back where we started."

Felix frowned and Gabrielle related the tale of how they arrived in Middle Earth, and the fateful battle that had occurred almost a year prior when the Orcs of Isengard had ambushed the two of them.

Felix, apart from being impressed at how the two women had defended themselves, seemed to mull the information over a bit.

Queen Arwen appeared at the edge of the landing field, anxiously searching for her husband in the small crowd of passengers. When he emerged from the ship, she ran across the field and threw herself into his arms.

"As promised, My Lady," Aragorn soothed her. She looked up at him and he smiled. "Only a short time."

She nodded, smiling back at him and then seemed to realize they were not in private. She looked back at the other people around her, some of them covering amused expressions.

"I have prepared lodgings for us, My Lord," she said with sudden formality. "And the nobles request a council of war as soon as you are recovered from your journey."

"I am quite rested, Lady," Aragorn replied. "Have the council convene, I shall join them shortly."

He turned back to Tyrion.

"Master Darquefyre?" he called. "As to our discussion earlier, it must be heard before the council and they, as well as I, must agree to it. I would have you join us."

Tyrion nodded. "Yes, sir."

Tyrion saluted and turned, heading over to the rest of his party. Felix fell into step with him.

"Any chance of a meeting before your meeting?"

"What's on your mind?" Tyrion asked.

"I just need more information," Felix answered cryptically. "And I want to roll something past everyone and see what they think."

Tyrion nodded. "Set it up. Ten minutes?"

"No problem," Felix nodded. "Now, if you don't mind me saying so, you look like week old bread."

Tyrion smiled. "I'm going to grab something to eat and I'll meet you by Nicky's ship in ten."

Felix jogged off towards where the majority of their people were gathered.

When Tyrion returned to Nicolla's ship, the entire group had gathered, some seated on the long ramp, others leaning against the hydraulic struts.

Tyrion raised a hand to halt them as some began to rise and move to fall into line.

"Not necessary," he said as he took a bite of salted pork. He nodded towards Felix.

"Doc needed to get a few things off his chest, so this is his show."

Felix turned back to Tyrion and looked around. He had that knowing expression on his face.

"I believe, Lieutenant Malone has a rather intriguing theory," Dade offered.

Felix nodded. "Okay, Something that Gabby said earlier, got me thinking."

He looked down at the young bard. "Remember what you said when we landed?"

Gabrielle looked confused. "Only that this is where Xena and I first arrived, and those rocks," she pointed over to the small cluster of boulders. "Those rocks were where we were ambushed by orcs."

Felix nodded. "And we've all been running pell mell over this landscape and wind up going right back to where we started – present company excluded." This last bit was accompanied by a nod to Dade and his people.

All eyes turned towards Felix.

Felix put his hands together, as if in prayer, and began pacing in his customary manner.

"Is called 'The Illusion of Choice' theory," Felix offered. "Anyone ever heard of it?"

The pale synthoid looked up.

"It states that all choices are illusory and that, all things being equal, an individual will always make a predicable choice, based on any current situation," he offered.

"Sounds like a lot of double talk to me," Mileasha commented.

Felix grinned. "What that means is: If someone knows our profiles well enough, they can orchestrate situations where it appears we have choices, when in actuality, we don't."

"You're about to go off on one of your random tangents again, aren't you," Silas said knowingly.

Felix gestured to the big man and grinned. "Case and point."

Silas looked around and then raised his eyebrows. "What?"

"You have a choice," Felix offered. "To stay and listen to a rant, or walk away and find some peace, right?"

"Do I?" Silas looked hopeful.

"Absolutely," Felix nodded. "But I already know that you won't. He looked pointedly at Tyrion and back to Silas.

"Knowing this, I know how to control you," Felix offered. He looked back at Mavon. "In the bath house, we were talking about how this whole thing was turning into a game of 'Follow Best', because we were in control of the circumstances, remember?"  
"I remember Mil and I walking out of that conversation," Mavon replied.

Mileasha blushed.

"And the end result was Gabby and I getting some alone time," Felix countered.

"Felix," it was Gabrielle's turn to blush.

"You see conspiracies everywhere, don't you?" Xena offered. Like some of the others, she was having a hard time being convinced of Felix's argument.

Felix looked back at Tyrion. "How many decisions have you made, that were one sided?" he asked. "It was the right thing to do, or the only viable option, or needed to be done for whatever reason?"

Tyrion opened his mouth to reply and then paused.

"The illusion of choice," Felix said. "We chose to use the gas on Minas Tirith to help Aragorn, but we didn't have to. We chose to destroy the Phoenix, in order to protect the secrets of all the gear left in it, but we didn't _really_ have to. Hell, we sided with the Kajano, but we didn't have to. Or did we?"

Everyone mulled that over.

"People play each other all the time," Felix explained. "Confidence Artists learn to do it better than most, but the basic principle is still the same. We could have let Edoras fall, could have engaged the Kaj, could have held back at Minas Tirith, hell, we could have chosen not to even show up for that party, but the end results would have been,"

"Would have been unacceptable to us," Tyrion finished.

"Con Artists are skilled mental musicians," Felix explained. "They can play people to get what they want, but eventually they're exposed. By comparison, whoever is playing us is a mental virtuoso."

"You really think that's what's happening?" Xena asked.

"Think about when you first arrived here," Felix indicated Xena. "You get zapped and wind up here. Gabrielle said you got hit by lightning, right?"

The Warrior Princess nodded.

"The odds of getting struck by lightning are rather remote," Felix continued. "Not to say it can't happen, but you got hit by lightning and everything that went with it. Think of the odds!"

Confused glances were exchanged.

Felix sighed. "Think of the possibility of getting struck by lightning. But not just struck – stuck enough to reset the nanos in your system without frying your skin - remote. Not enough to fry them beyond repair, but just enough to send them wonko – but not all of them – even more remote!"

"At the same time, enough energy to shoot them half way across the star system to this very planet," Dade added, nodding.

"Astronomically, fucking remote!" Felix finished emphatically. Then he raised a finger. "Unless someone is setting a series of events in motion."

"Are you saying that Xena and I were brought here to start all this?" Gabrielle asked.

"That's what it sounds like," Silas added.

"Yes and no," Felix answered. "You were brought here and Xena was placed in a condition that required interaction. Gabrielle got her to Minas Tirith, which put them in a position to bring us there. And because Aragorn was already in the process of helping Xena, we were automatically endeared to him and the alliance grew from there."

"From a single seed, may grand trees flourish," Jeeves quoted.

"So the choices we've made have really been," Gabrielle frowned, trying to think of the correct word. In the end, she made on up. "Un-choices?"

"Correct! Un-choices is actually a good way to put it. We have a series of interconnected un-choices right now," Felix replied. "We can prep for an assault on Angmar, try to train one hundred and fifty locals up to our standards, or," he spread his hands in an elaborate shrug. "We could all choose to suck it up, buy a plot of land and settle down right here."

He looked knowingly at the other. Faces turned back and forth, eyes met and realization dawned.

"So, who really wants to settle down on this rock instead of going home?" he asked.

Much to everyone's surprise, Mileasha raised a tentative hand.

"I kind of like it here, actually," she admitted.

That elicited chuckles from the others and shocked gazes from Iesha and Mavon.

"Seriously?" Iesha asked.

Mileasha shrugged.

"Then you enjoy more freedom than the rest of us, Mileasha," Felix smiled.

"So what does this all mean?" Xena asked.

"It means that we are already going to act in a predetermined pattern," Felix replied. "We may think we can change it, but," he shrugged again.

"Is everyone in your world this suspicious?" Xena asked, looking back at Silas.

The big man simply shrugged.

"Question becomes," Dade offered. "How do we prove this theory of yours?"

"We're having this conversation right now, before Tyrion goes and meets with the head honchos and debates battle strategy, am I right?"

Tyrion nodded.

"Now we have already chosen to train up the locals," Felix continued. "Aragorn and his people have a choice: to give us the men, or not to give us the men."

"You know they're going to," Gabrielle offered.

"Right," Felix countered. "And then Tyrion, Hoss, and Silas have a choice."

"Train or refuse to train," Hoskins nodded understanding.

"And so on, and so on, and so on," Felix smiled. "The pattern has already been set. The bad guy, if he or she is one of these," he paused and looked at Xena. "These gods, if you like, already knows how things are going to play out. That's how it was set up."

"So," Xena nodded. "The only way to break out of the pattern is to do something contrary to our own instincts."

"Do something completely off the wall," Dorn added.

"Like what?" Prost flicked ash off the end of a cigarette and exhaled pale smoke from his nostrils.

"That's the trick," Felix nodded. "It would have to be something quite radical to break the cycle."

He turned back. "The first part of the proof is some simple fortune telling," he offered. "To that end, I'm going to predict what will happen in about thirty minutes."

"This should be good," Mavon muttered.

"You're going to walk into a meeting that will discuss strategy for the upcoming assault on Angmar and the training of one hundred and fifty of Gondor's finest." Felix began.

"Well, that's pretty obvious," Roscoe scoffed.

"I'm just setting the table," Felix held up a hand, requesting patience.

"Here's how the conversation is going to go," He held up a finger. "First, they will agree that they should combine with the armies of Edoras and march on Angmar. Second, they will agree to let us train their men. There will be one or two individuals in that meeting who will be more gung ho than others, seeing the opportunity to abuse the technology and skills, but someone more moderate – the king probably – will take them down a notch or two.

Third, someone else may suggest a passive option, or even voluntary ignorance. Again, the moderate will tell him to grow a set of balls. Fourth, you will agree, albeit reluctantly, to take the one fifty, and we will commence beating the piss out of them until the rest of the army arrives. Finally, they will want to discuss returning the civilians to Tirith, and in the end, everyone will have the satisfaction of knowing that despite the hard choices set before them, they have made the correct ones."

He folded his arms and offered a nod. "And all of it pre-destined by the prior circumstances."

"So how do we change it, then?" Tyrion asked. "If it's already meant to be?"

"Accept the passive option, or pull us out," Felix answered simply.

"Weren't you one of the little conspiracy pushing for me train the locals up?" Tyrion growled.

"Old business," Felix said quickly as he stepped aside and opened the floor to Tyrion.

The old Master Chief gave Felix a withering look and then stepped up.

"Okay people," he began, as he always did when issuing orders. "Grab some chow, check your gear and then get ready to move out. Nicolla Jeeves, and Silas will remain here with me, the rest of you pack into the second Suko, skids up in thirty. Head back to Rivendell and help Miss Gamgee finish prepping our training facility."

He nodded towards Hoskins.

"You know what we'll need," he said.

"Better believe it, Master Chief," Hoskins replied.

Tyrion looked at the expectant and somewhat weary faces before him.

"Prost," he indicated the dark skinned rifleman. "You've just been promoted to instructor. From what Hoskins tells me, you are the best sharpshooter of the entire crew. Time for you to pass that on."

Prost, surprise evident on his face, looked back towards Hoskins.

The big man shrugged. "I had a moment of weakness."

Prost grinned. He had been in the service before, been one of the top three percent of marksmen in the Recon Sniper Academy, but he had never been promoted beyond the rank of Lance Corporal, and so, had never been afforded the opportunity to advance from the field and pass on all of that knowledge and experience. It was part of the reason he had resigned his commission and found himself working as a mercenary for Marcolous Gaw.

Since the minimum rank permitted for a trainer was that of Sergeant, Prost was not only being given the new responsibilities that he had craved, but in the hierarchy of their unit, he was also being offered a huge promotion, bypassing one rank completely, and stepping directly into the Sergeant Stripes.

"Once we're finished setting the basic strategy," Tyrion continued. "We will begin gathering the trainees and loading them into one of the frigates. Expect us in three days."

"Hoo ha, Master Chief," Hoskins grinned.

He dismissed the group and turned towards the large tent that was serving as the King's lodging. As he walked, another set of footsteps fell into step with his.

"What about you?" Xena asked. "You need to get some rest."

"I will," Tyrion lied. "On the flight back to Rivendell."

Xena placed a hand on his shoulder and they stopped, turning to face one another.

"We both know what it is to be the one in charge, Tyrion," Xena said. "And we both know what fatigue can do to a leader."

Tyrion's face was impassive. He simply nodded. "Granted."

"In my army," Xena said. "My seconds were told they had the right to stop me if they believed my judgment was impaired."

"Did it work?" Tyrion raised an eyebrow.

Xena paused and pursed her lips. "No. More often than not, I beat them to a pulp for it."

Tyrion smiled and nodded, turning to go but Xena touched his shoulder again. "But I always regretted it later."

Tyrion's expression sobered, "I understand."

Then his rueful smile returned slowly. "I promise not to beat you to a pulp."

Xena's serious expression cracked and she shook her head, smiling.

"You are a stubborn man, Tyrion Darquefyre."

"That's what my mother always said," Tyrion replied as he turned and continued toward the tent.

In the end, when the council meeting was over, Tyrion reported that it had gone exactly as Felix had anticipated, right down to the pacifistic views of one of the lower lords of the council.

The king had broached the subject, the debate had been long and heated at times, but in the end, for the good of the realm, they had decided to grant permission to have Tyrion train an elite force of men who would serve the entire realm of Gondor and Arnor as the Dunedain of old had served.

Tyrion walked out of the meeting somewhat dazed, an empty feeling in his gut.

It was as if Felix's premonition confirmed that he was being manipulated and he did not like that sensation.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered, trudging back towards his company's makeshift camp.

Nicolla, Jeeves, and Silas sat or stood around the small campfire near their tents and they all turned and looked at him as he approached.

"Well?" the big man asked.

"They want us to do it," Tyrion sounded disappointed. "Tomorrow, they'll start considering recruits."

"That's good, right?" Nicolla asked.

Tyrion shrugged and crouched down, extending his hands towards the warmth of the flames. The air was scented with a smoky wooden odor.

"Well," Silas offered. "At least the next few weeks won't be boring."

That comment got Silas an icy look from his friend. Nicolla shivered.

"I'm going to grab some sleep," Tyrion said, rising. "We'll be busy tomorrow. You might want to do the same."

Without another word, he stepped into the deepening shadows and ducked into his tent.

Silas looked over at Jeeves, and then at Nicolla. His eyebrows rose questioningly and then shook his head.

"I'm confused," Jeeves asked. "This plan will provide the necessary assets for us to achieve our goal, correct?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, Jeeves," Nicolla replied, rising in turn.

"The Master Chief is not a happy man," Silas added.

"Ah," Jeeves nodded, understanding. "The Keckopa incident."

The two of them looked at the Synthoid.

Jeeves looked between them and shrugged in a very human fashion. "When Miss Sheil's identity had been confirmed, I did a data search on her common associates and discovered Master Darqufyre's credentials."

"Oh?" Silas asked.

"Indeed," Jeeves replied. "Since Master Gaw ordered me to accompany Miss Sheil, I wanted to know with whom I was being employed."

"And what did you find out?" Silas asked.

"Everything on public and some secure files," Jeeves replied easily. "Sixteen years in the Confederated Military, his move into Special Operations, and his promotion - rather quickly in fact - to the rank of Master Chief. He was on the fast track to the higher officer's rank, and then the Keckopa Incident brought his career to a halt. He was ordered to resign, with full honors, pension, et cetera, due to returning with his team intact."

"What?" Nicolla blurted in shock.

"The records were quite clear, Miss," Jeeves explained. "Because he returned with his team and the mission objectives achieved, he was able to avoid court marshal, provided he resigned his commission. It was only at the insistence of a Colonel Alistair Kleegan that he was given an honorary discharge. Apparently, Master Chief Darquefyre had several enemies in the higher ranks - individuals who did not want him promoted into their company."

Jeeves looked at the astonished expressions on his two companion's faces.

"You were unaware of this?"

"He always told us he resigned because of what happened to Lynette!" Silas fought his rising voice back down so Tyrion did not overhear them.

"While that would be a legitimate reason, certainly," Jeeves offered. "In truth, Master Chief Darquefyre would easily be a General by now. At the very least, a Colonel."

"Son of a bitch!" Silas cursed. "Why the hell did he do that?"

"He was protecting us," Nicolla nodded. She looked back towards is tent. "That's what he does. It's what he always does."

She began walking towards his tent.

"Where you going?" Silas asked.

She looked back at the big man and smiled. "I'm going to talk to him."

Tyrion blinked when he felt the hands on his shoulders. The ash on his cigarette fell away from the butt and shattered silently on the dirt.

"Hi," he said, looking back over his shoulder into Nicolla's green eyes.

Her hands massaged his shoulders.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?" she asked quietly.

"Tell you what?" he replied.

She stepped around the cot and knelt before him.

"You gave up your life," She said deliberately. "So the rest of us could get on with ours."

Tyrion shook his head and offered an innocently curious expression. She held a finger up and stopped his silent protest.

"I know," she said simply.

He sighed and looked down at the ground between them. "You kids had your entire careers ahead of you. The tribunal wanted to drag you all before an inquiry because you did what I told you. They said that you all should have relieved me of command." His voice caught suddenly. He shrugged, looking more like an ashamed schoolboy instead of a stern commander. Then he looked into her eyes and there was something like desperation in his expression. "I didn't have anything left at that point, Nicky. Lynette was gone, my wife was gone, I was the only one who had to pay, so…"

Her hands settled on either side of his face and she looked deep into his eyes.

He smiled. "I got my pension," he offered. "And all my benefits. It wasn't that big of a deal."

"Tyrion," Nicolla said. "The Military was your life. You loved it! And you let it go for all of us! We all had our careers, went as far as we wanted, and we never knew, because you were looking out for us."

He shrugged.

She sighed and her eyes were wide and filled with emotion.

"Just when I don't think I can love you any more, I hear something that proves how wrong I am." she laughed quietly.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. "Nicky?"

Her eyes locked on his again. "I have been in love with you since the first day I met you, Tyrion Darquefyre."

"When Kiri left you and Lynette, I was so angry with her," Nicolla admitted. "I saw what she threw away and I wanted to kill her!" Her voice had a sudden vehemence that took him aback.

She smiled again and looked at him. "Then the opportunistic side of me thought, 'go get him!'"

Her expression became a little dejected. "But you never noticed me, Tyrion. I made sure I was always in your line of sight and you never realized why."

"I couldn't," Tyrion replied evenly. "It would have been a mistake. We were two officers in the same unit, and that kind of thing is frowned upon. I creates the possibility of,"

"I know," Nicolla cut him off.

"And the same thing applies her and now," Tyrion continued. "What happened back in Rivendell and Minas Tirith,"

"I don't care," Nicolla said each word with deliberate emphasis. "I love you, Tyrion Darquefyre. I don't care if you don't feel the same way, but my little misadventure proved one thing. I needed to tell you, and despite that,"

It was her turn to lose her voice. She looked down, shook her head and smiled.

"Nicky," Tyrion said.

"I look at Aragorn and Arwen and I realized something!" she looked back up at him fiercely.

"Oh?"

"We are idiots!" Nicolla snapped. "Con Fed says that two people serving in the same unit can't have feelings for each other because it makes them weak! Then I saw them and you know what?"

"What?" Tyrion asked.

"They were wrong!" Nicolla rose and flung her hand towards the king's tent. "I look at those two and I know - I _know_ - that there isn't anything that could defeat them! Nothing!"

She took a deep breath. "The king told Gabby about how he and the queen got together and the fact that they loved each other was the only thing that kept them alive!"

She stopped suddenly and then put her hands on her hips and smiled a self-deprecating smile.

"I'm not making very much sense, am I?" she admitted.

Tyrion smiled. "More than you think."

"DO you understand?" she asked, and there was a hint of desperation in her voice. "What happened in Rivendell happened because I didn't know how to say it!" she admitted. "But I needed to tell you!"

Tyrion smiled suddenly. "How did this suddenly become all about you?"

"It's not about me!" Nicolla shot back with asperity. She knelt down in front of him again. "It's about you - about us!"

She put her hand on his cheek again. "You sacrificed everything for us. You shouldn't have kept that from us, Tyrion."

"I wanted you all to have every opportunity," Tyrion explained.

"Every opportunity but one," Nicolla countered. She took a deep breath and looked intently at him. "You know how I feel, Tyrion." She left the rest of the question unspoken.

"Nicky," he sighed. "I haven't had the luxury of allowing myself to - "

"Bullshit!" Nicolla interrupted him. "Don't make me dig into your head, Tyrion!"

He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes again. She studied his gaze and everything he was unable to say was there as plain as daylight.

"I've always been better at giving orders," Tyrion admitted. "I haven't had much reason to do anything else."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, held him tight, and was momentarily surprised when he returned the embrace.

"We'll work on that," she smiled feeling a flood of relief and affection.

Several hours later, as they lay in each other's arms, Nicolla leaned up and looked at him.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, referring to the upcoming selection process.

Tyrion sighed, his hand absently stroking the smooth skin of her shoulder. "Train them, I guess." He sighed. "But I'm going to run the fuckers into the ground. If I'm lucky, maybe I can wash out enough of them to make the idea impractical."

She laid her head on his chest and listened to the steady thumping of his heart.

"Even if they all wash out," she offered. "They'll still wash out knowing more than they do now."

Tyrion sighed. "The illusion of choice?" he asked.

"Felix did make a valid point," Nicolla agreed. "No matter what we do, the end result is going to be taking Angmar. We may as well take it with the best trained and most disciplined people we can come up with."

"And what happens after we leave?" Tyrion asked, the old fear rearing its head again.

"We have to trust them," Nicolla offered. "I know it's not easy, especially after everything you've seen."

"Aragorn made a good point before we left Minas Tirith," Tyrion admitted. "The people on this rock have already seen what is possible. They'll be curious and try and replicate it as soon as all of this is over and things get back to normal."

"So, again," Nicolla looked up at him and kissed him. "Train them right."

"I don't know if I'm that good, Nicky," Tyrion admitted.

She smiled and laid her head on his chest again. "I believe in you, Tyrion."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

It was not, Xena had decided, the easier of the two tasks. She had recruited enough soldiers to understand the headaches that came with finding more men for the ranks. Being able to return to Rivendell with Hoskins and the others had been an opportunity for her to see how her counterparts prepared to train their new recruits and perhaps glean some new techniques she would be able to employ at some point in the future. She had incorrectly expected to be left to the task of creating the housing for the men who would swell their ranks, but instead she found herself constantly butting heads with the obstinate Elanor Gamgee.

First, there had been an hour-long dissertation on how she could not complete her tasks with all of the big folk blundering about and getting in her way, even though Hoskins and the others had gone out of their way to keep clear of the industrious hobbits. Then, when Hoskins had sent a patrol to scout housing away from the main complex, Elanor had insisted on sending a team of hobbits to inspect the feasting halls that had been discovered.

A day later, with the hobbits seeming to be no closer to ending their inspection, Hoskins had pulled Xena aside and she had been forced to endure a much shorter tirade, the other side of the coin.

She found herself the involuntary mediator between the two factions.

"I should have stayed with Tyrion," she muttered, rubbing at a threatening headache.

As she walked slowly through one of the old, overgrown gardens, she saw Elanor storming toward her.

"Gods," Xena sighed. "Here we go again."

"Miss Xena!" Elanor all but bellowed. "You must stop your people from destroying this place!"

"What is it this time?" Xena tried to be pleasant despite a sudden desire to split the hobbit's skull.

"Your people are in the northern court area, uprooting every tree in the place!" Elanor said angrily. "I have asked the big one – "

"Hoskins?" Xena offered.

"Yes!" Elanor nodded. "I asked him to stop and do you know what he said to me?"

"Demanded is more like," Xena thought, but she merely raised an inquisitive eyebrow and waited for the next volley.

"He told me, quote, if I didn't take my little munchkins out of his way, he would launch us so far into orbit that we would die wondering when we would start to fall again, unquote!"

Xena had to suppress the sudden snort that threatened to explode from her. She forced her expression to remain neutral and nodded, trying to appear empathetic.

"Let me speak to him," Xena offered. "What exactly did you need to do before he continues with his task?"

Elanor threw her hands up in exasperation. "The same thing we were doing before you arrived here!" She gestured to where the sound of another tree falling was heard. "We need to document everything we find about this place before – not after – you brutes tear it apart!"

"Well," Xena's patience began to crack. "If you are addressing Master Blaine with those terms, I would expect him to be less than understanding. And words like 'brute' will not endear any of them to anything you want to suggest."

She leaned down and looked into her eyes. Icy blue locked with fierce brown and the fire began to fade. "We all understand what you're trying to do here, Elanor. However, you need to understand that your findings will be worthless if you return home and discover nothing but ashes. Now, we have done everything we can to stay out of your way and accommodate your needs, when it is possible. However, we also have a job that we must do and, forgive me for being blunt, if you continue to interfere in those tasks, I will order Master Blaine to knock you into orbit."

Elanor's mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Her expression of annoyance blossomed into a look of full-blown outrage.

She tried again to come up with something really scathing, but still no words formed.

"Go away," Xena hissed, rising and letting her hand drift to her sword hilt.

"Hi, kids," A cheerful voice called. Both of them turned to see Felix strolling up, a data pad in his hand. Behind him, Gabrielle stood, smiling knowingly at Xena. "Everyone getting along famously, I see?"

Xena rolled her eyes.

"So?" Felix slid the data pad into a pocket and clapped his hands expectantly. "Who's going to swing first?"

"Felix," Gabrielle cautioned.

"No, no," Felix went on. "I figured that if you two wanted to go at it, just give me a few minutes to organize some wagers and we could make a little side money. In the meantime," he looked at Elanor. "If you would like to see something that might speed up your research a hundred fold, you could always unball those little fists and take a few breaths," He smiled his most charming smile. "Or you can start kicking Xena in the knee, or whatever it is you were going to do."

Elanor looked as if she were actually considering attacking the warrior princess, but something in Xena's eyes told her that was unwise.

She looked at Felix. "What is it?" she asked darkly.

"I'm so glad you asked," Felix replied. He drew the data pad back out and held it up. "As we were making our final approach here, I had our pilot do a series of interesting little things that you wouldn't understand, but mapped out everything still standing, and most of the things buried in the foliage near the main citadel."

He activated the device and Xena saw an aerial image of the entire complex appear on the screen.

"One of the nice things we can do is take a picture of an area from the sky," Felix explained. He began leading the hobbit away, offering a conspiratorial wink to Xena as he did so. "If you look here, on the south side of Rivendell, you'll see an entire wing of buildings that were so overgrown you've probably walked past them a hundred times and never even knew they were there."

"Really?" Elanor's mood was suddenly transformed from outrage to intense curiosity.

Felix indicated the place on the image. "These four buildings here look like they were attached to the main citadel. Note the encircling wall that separates these structures from the smaller buildings on the southeastern path?"

She grabbed his wrist and held the data pad in place, studying the image.

Felix looked back at Xena and grinned.

"Why don't I print a hard copy of this for you?" he offered helpfully.

Once he and Elanor were out of sight, Xena breathed a sigh of relief. With a start, she realized that her hand was still on her sword hilt. Feeling somewhat ashamed, she looked up and found Gabrielle standing nearby, smiling at her.

"Everything okay?" she asked.

Her cheerful expression faded a bit as Xena stalked toward her. The Warrior Princess stopped before her friend and looked back down the path where Felix and Elanor had vanished.

"I should have stayed with Tyrion," she said again before pushing past her friend, moving towards the new barracks.

Gabrielle watched her friend depart and then casually strolled through an old, overgrown garden. She paused here and there, inspecting the odd blossom, or looking up into the branches trying to spy the birds singing above her. At times like these, she knew she could get more out of her friend after Xena cooled down a bit. To push the issue now would only exacerbate an already volatile situation.

The air was a soft mix of flowers and damp earth, like home after a thunderstorm. She paused for a moment and considered that. After the many months spent on this world, it was beginning to feel like home.

A movement out of the corner of her eyes drew her attention and she spied Legolas standing before an overgrown statue on a path opposite hers. His hands were clasped comfortably at the small of his back and he seemed to be studying the expression on the hewn face.

As if he realized he was being observed, his head dropped for a moment and then his keen blue eyes turned and fixed on her.

He returned her smile and gave her a friendly nod in greeting. Then his eyes flicked to her left and back and his smile grew as he turned away.

Gabrielle turned and found Felix walking toward her and her heart skipped a beat.

"Well," Felix smiled. "One war averted."

She let his arms encircle her.

"Thanks," she smiled. "When I saw Xena's hand stray to her sword, I knew she was about to lose her temper."

"Well," Felix shrugged. "Elanor has every midget on the opposite side of the complex, working like maniacs. I don't think I've ever seen her so happy."

Gabrielle laughed and the sound seemed to ring through the trees.

Felix was struck, once again, by how beautiful Gabrielle was, especially when she smiled.

She blushed suddenly. "Stop that."

"What?" He asked.

"You're staring at me," Gabrielle demurred.

"Yes, I am," Felix admitted. "Can't help it."

She slipped her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder as she pulled him with her further down the path.

"This place is amazing," she said after a few minutes.

Felix said nothing, simply watching her expression. There was an aspect of childish wonder that emerged when she was at ease, and it fascinated him.

They paused before another pale statue, this one of a woman, seated, wearing loose robes and a shawl over her head. A single tree towered behind the statue, its boughs extending over the woman like a protective roof.

Gabrielle fixed on the expression of the figure and was immediately struck by a sense of distant melancholy. Her smile faded to something more sympathetic.

"She looks so sad," Gabrielle said.

She reached down and brushed some soil and leaves from the base, revealing letters etched deeply in the pale stone.

Her head cocked to the side as she studied the markings.

"I wonder what this says?" She asked aloud, looking back up at the face.

Felix leaned forward and studied the runes.

"Gilraen," Felix read aloud, kneeling before the letters and brushing more debris away. More letters emerged and he frowned. "Daughter of Numenor and Beloved Mother of Elessar."

"When did you learn how to read their writing?" Gabrielle asked, impressed.

"Minas Tirith," Felix rose. "While we were translating all of those documents."

Gabrielle's mouth dropped open in surprise. "We were only there for a couple days, Felix. Are you telling me that you learned to read that language that quickly?"

"No," Felix replied, and then a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I learned seven."

She was about to say something else when the realization hit her. "What was the name?"

"Gilraen," Felix repeated.

Gabrielle shook her head. "Mother of who?"

Felix looked back down at the writing.

"Elessar." He looked about them at the other memorials protruding from the foliage. "We're in a cemetery, it seems."

"Elessar," Gabrielle repeated, looking at the face of the statue again. "Felix. This was Aragorn's mother."

Now it was Felix's turn to be surprised. "You sure?"

Gabrielle nodded. "When we were in the cavern - Legolas's old home - he told me a story about King Aragorn and Queen Arwen and he used the names," she paused as she recalled the information. "Elessar and Indomiel for the king and queen."

"Those must be their elf names," Felix nodded. "It seems that folks on this rock end up with names common to whatever region they most travel. Pippin was telling me that Aragorn was known as Strider in his part of the country and I guess his given name here was Elessar."

Gabrielle frowned, calculating. "Wait a moment. That can't be right."

Felix raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"This grave is old," Gabrielle noted. "A lot older than the twenty odd years since this place was abandoned. I mean a lot older. Aragorn doesn't look much older than forty, so, this can't be his mother."

"Sure can," Felix grinned.

"How?"

Felix's expression became stern. "Am I the only one who did the reading for this class?"

Gabrielle frowned at him.

"Gabs," Felix grinned. "Aragorn is one hundred and eight years old."

"What?" Gabrielle blurted. "That's impossible!"

Felix nodded. "Old boy took the throne after his eighty-eighth birthday, swear to it."

He looked back at the statue and his expression sobered. "His family is Numenorean, and from what I read, they were a race with unnatural longevity. Probably one of the earlier genetic population experiments."

He looked back at the face of the woman and his smile faded. "The flight of Gilraen was one of the histories in the archive. I guess, after the last Great War, she fled here to avoid her son being hunted. The elves took in her and Aragorn," he shrugged. "The rest is history."

"One hundred and eight," Gabrielle repeated, amazed.

Felix nodded. "She died when he was fifteen."

"Gods," Gabrielle sighed. The poignant moment drew out as she looked once more at the face of Gilraen before she and Felix, more sober now, turned and continued down the overgrown path.

They left the memorial courtyard and continued towards the sound of the rest of the crew as they cleared the area around three low structures.

Hoskins turned and frowned at him.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded.

"Doing what you asked me to do, Sarge," Felix replied easily. "You said you wanted someone to take care of the annoying munchkin, so I did."

Hoskins was taken aback. He opened his mouth to inquire, but Felix held up a hand.

"I found some stuff on the other side of town for her and her merry band to clear out," he explained. "Little beggars will dig for a month before they realize it's just spare housing. How are things going here?"

"Spare housing?" Gabrielle's eyes widened in surprise and then she frowned. "Felix, you,"

"We got the muck out of the barracks, and most of the overgrowth gone," Hoskins explained, cutting off Gabrielle's protest. "Not everything. I want to be able to run the plebes around a bit and have them finish the place out."

He smiled. "Since you missed most of it, you and your lady friend can help prep the log pit."

Felix looked about them at the piles of rubbish and cut branches littering the area.

"You can't be serious?" he complained.

Hoskins leaned over the smaller man and lifted a finger, pointing at his own eye. "Look into my eyes," he growled. Then he turned to the others. "Let's get this shit cleared up! Hump it!"

He paused as he did a quick head count. "Where the hell is Mavon and Mileasha?"

"Probably humping," Dorn offered with a smile.

Growling, Hoskins bit down on his cigar and stormed up a nearby path that lead to one of the main buildings.

Felix looked at Dorn and grinned. "Humping?"

Roscoe, leaning on a shovel with a cigarette between his lips, smiled and took a drag. He breathed out the smoke and nodded. "They've been all over each other since before the Minas Tirith Op."

He chuckled.

"No shit," Dorn confirmed. "Looks like your buddy got himself a girlfriend."

Felix grinned.

Iesha sighed.

"Come on guys," Nathan offered, nodding towards Iesha. "Let's get this stuff cleaned up and then we can talk about your sister's sex life."

When everything was completed, the place was serviceable. It was not the pristine, well ordered and cleaned housing that Xena would have wanted. There were still piles of debris scattered throughout the area. The roof of one building had several holes in it, and the entire area, which she had surmised would be a parade ground, was uneven and covered in rocks and weeds. Opposite the three barrack buildings, a second, smaller clearing was cleared, leveled and prepped, with ten thick timbers lying on the earth.

When Gabrielle inquired, Felix explained that this small area would be where the recruits would spend the first twelve hours of their training.

Hoskins sat on a stone rail in front of a smaller, cleaner building on the opposite side of the parade area. The structure had obviously been a house in the past, and a comfortable one at that. Hoskins had repaired or covered the broken windows, remounted a sturdy door and even managed to clean and furnish the interior with items salvaged from other buildings nearby.

"Assessors' billet," he smiled, indicating the house.

The next morning, they were all awakened by the sounds of approaching engines. Nicolla expertly arced her ship over Rivendell and set down in the courtyard. As the engines spooled down, another sound echoed in the valley. It was a deep, low thrumming sound that made the earth vibrate beneath their feet.

Elanor and all of her hobbits paused in their excavation as the shadow of a Kajano frigate coasted slowly over the complex. It slowed and descended to hover before a balcony on the eastern side of the parade ground.

The chosen recruits followed Silas out of the belly of the vessel and down to the three long buildings.

The rest of the team, cleaned and uniformed, stood at attention on a raised platform at the front of the log pit as Tyrion strode to join them.

"Line up!" Silas boomed over the frigates engine. "Form ranks!" He gestured with his arm, indicating the log pit "Move it!"

The men moved quickly and formed into three groups of fifty men each, ten rows, fifteen men across.

The men moved and assembled themselves quickly as the frigate lifted gracefully away from the valley and moved south, vanishing behind the hills.

Tyrion stepped up onto the dais and with Hoskins, Felix, Silas, and the newest sergeant, Prost. The lithe sharpshooter looked like a reed standing next to the massive bulk of Hoskins. The rest of the party lined up behind them.

A small scuffle began in one of the rows, with several individuals jostling each other.

"What the hell is going on here?" Hoskins bellowed angrily as he dropped onto the rough earth. "Stand still you bastards!"

Two men stepped forward with a third person between them.

"A stowaway, my lord," one of the men said. He shoved the errant person forward and then stepped back into rank.

The figure sprawled on the ground, lying motionless for a moment.

"Who the hell are you?" Hoskins demanded.

The girl stood up, staring defiantly at the massive sergeant.

"Freya," she answered with equal fire. She was short, little more than five feet in height, with dark eyes and long, dirty dark hair. She was dressed in well-worn clothing: Tunic, breaches, and old leather boots. A single dagger hung from a rope belt at her waist.

Hoskins looked back at Tyrion questioningly.

"Hold her in my office for now," Tyrion nodded to Mileasha and Iesha. "I'll decide what to do when I'm done here."

The twins stepped up and took hold of Freya's arms. She shook the contact away angrily.

"Don't!" Iesha hissed, locking eyes with her.

Freya's anger faded a little and she allowed herself to be escorted from the pit.

Tyrion watched them go and then turned back to the expectant faces before him.

As he inspected the assembled soldiers he saw Denethor standing at the front of group.

Tyrion placed his hands at the small of his back.

"Gentlemen," He said clearly. "You have been brought here because your kings believe you represent the best soldiers in your specific armies."

He continued down the lines, inspecting the worn, battle soiled uniforms and the unshaven faces. Many of the men had been part of the action in Minas Tirith, and more than a few of them were officers from various divisions of Gondor. Interspersed with members of Eomer's military.

Tyrion stopped and looked around. "We'll make you better!"

He resumed walking, ticking off items on his fingers. "The first thing you will do, is get cleaned up! Shaves and haircuts for everyone! Next, new uniforms! These uniforms will have no insignia! They will not denote rank, land, or birthright! They will not be decorated by you to indicate any affiliation!" He indicated the Kajano vessel rising into the clouds. "When you climbed aboard that frigate, you left all of that behind."

He looked at the expectant men again, and his expression was icy. "Your asses belong to me now!"

He paused before Denethor and offered a nod.

"If you agreed to come here," Tyrion said, looking deliberately at Faramir's son. "Then you forfeited any rights of rank and privilege!"

Denethors expression darkened at the perceived slight. Behind him, some soft, restrained chuckles were heard.

Tyrion turned and indicated the two sergeants. "These gentlemen are responsible for your training," he explained. "For the next two weeks, they are going to prepare you to learn how to wage war our way. You will comply, or you will be scrubbed."

"Understand something, candidates," Tyrion went on. "You have each volunteered and been chosen for this training program. When completed, the top fifty of you, if that many remain, will be chosen to continue training. The rest of you will be shipped back to your armies."

He held up one finger. "You will each be given a roster number. You will answer to that number. You no longer have names or ranks. You will be that number, or you will be referred to as "candidate", nothing else. Second, there is a good chance that you may be injured during training." He indicated Felix. "If you are injured, you will report to the field medic to get checked out. If you are injured and you fail to see the medic, you will be removed from this program."

"Third," Tyrion held up a third finger as he turned and retraced his steps towards the opposite side of the stage. "You will be given instructions and you will follow those instructions or you will be removed from this program. Finally, if you decide that you do not want to complete this program, you may voluntarily withdraw. You may remove and turn in your roster number to one of the assessors and exit the training area. When enough of you wash out, you will be ferried back to the army where you can march with them back to this place. Are there any questions?"

No one spoke.

He turned and nodded to Hoskins.

"All yours, Drill Sergeant."

The big sergeant snapped to rigid attention. "Thank you, sir."

Hoskins put on his game face, his offended sargeants face. His expression morphed into a scowl that verged on the edge of violence as he moved to the first group of recruits and began looking them up and down. His every movement was exaggerated, driving home the fact that he was inspecting the men and he made it obvious that he did not approve of what he beheld.

"Sorriest excuse for soldiers I've ever fucking seen," he scowled. "Wouldn't you agree, Sergeant Prost?"

Prost fell into the character his new rank required. He smiled. "Absolutely, Drill Sergeant."

"Think we can fix them?" Hoskins continued, pausing to inspect a particular element on a uniform, shake his head in disapproval, and move on.

"Doesn't seem likely to me, Drill Sergeant," He replied.

Hoskins paused in front of Denethor, gave some indicative grunt and continued.

"My name, is Drill Sergeant Hoskins Blaine," he said to the assembly. "My associate is Drill Sergeant Rokne Prost! For the next fourteen days, we are going to teach you what it means to be soldiers!"

Mavon leaned closer to Mileasha. "Rokne?" he asked.

"Shh!" Mileasha hissed.

"Now," Hoskins continued, moving down the line "I don't care who you are, where you're from, who your father fucked in a drunken stupor, or how many generations you're family has been silver spooning it on this rock! As of this moment, any privilege you inherited from between your momma's legs is gone, am I clear?"

He wheeled around and jabbed a finger at Denethor.

"Get your sorry ass in line proper!"

Denethor, shocked and offended, slowly stepped back into the ranks with the others.

Tyrion noted the various expressions of outrage interspersed with the men and smiled.

"Understand something!" Hoskins resumed after Denethor had stepped grudgingly back into the ranks. "You will be run to the ground! You will be tested! You will be trained! You will be educated! You will wear what I tell you, eat what I tell you, read what I tell you, sleep where and when I let you, and your asses are here for my own personal amusement!"

He stepped up and ripped the insignia off of a Gondor captain, and then similarly defaced one of the Rohan soldiers by removing his decoration.

"These places!" he held the two pieces of cloth up. Then he let them fall to the ground. "Do not exist!"

This time there were some exclamations of outrage.

"Shut your traps!" Prost roared over them with a sudden fury that the rest of his crewmates started. The silence was absolute.

"If I allow you pass this training course, you will be responsible for something much larger than those!" Hoskins finished, kicking the insignias with his toe. "You will be responsible for an entire world!"

He glared at them. "Understand that, lugnuts! Every tree, rock, bug, animal, and person from sea to fucking shining sea is going to be your responsibility!"

Hoskins let those words sink in for a few moments, then placed his hands behind his back and resumed pacing.

"Now, it is my intention to make sure that each and every last one of you turns in your roster number!" Hoskins bellowed. "I do not like the idea of training you in my tactics! I do not support this idea! I do not think any of you are ready for the responsibility of protecting a world! In addition, I believe that by teaching you, I am going to ass fuck this planet seven ways to Sunday! The best way to prevent that is for me to personally wash each and every one of you out!"

Again, he paused and the look he gave to the assembly was filled with venom.

"All of you!" He growled as he resumed is pacing.

Several men looked at one another and some of them gulped in fear.

"The Confederated Systems Special Operations Division is the best god damn combat unit in the galaxy!" Hoskins resumed. "And I will not have a bunch of dirty, backward ass, monkey fucks like you tarnishing that reputation!"

He stopped in the center of the three formations and looked around.

"Each of you will be issued a uniform and standard issue pack!" he announced in a bellow. "You will be responsible for each and every item you receive. Lose or break anything, and I will play dice with your eyeballs!" He gestured to the first group. "Anyone not okay with this, step out, turn in your numbers, and don't waste my time!"

To the credit of all present, not a single individual moved.

Hoskins nodded. "Very well! First line, follow Sergeant Prost to the Quartermaster and get your equipment, roster numbers, and get cleaned up! Second and third line, my yard is a mess! I want this parade area cleaned, leveled and shaped up A.S.A.P.! Move out!"

She sat in the chair across the desk and glared at Tyrion. The old soldier leaned back and poured a short glass of amber liquid and took a drink as his dark eyes studied her closely.

Freya was young, probably no more than sixteen or seventeen, with dirty dark reddish brown hair that hung in ragged strings on either side of a pale dirty face. He looked up at Iesha and Mileasha, the two women selected to stand guard over her, and then back down into Freya's fierce pale eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Tyrion asked.

The young woman said nothing.

Tyrion picked up a piece of paper and pretended to read. The document had nothing to do with the situation. In fact, it was simply a page from a technical manual, but he used the prop to draw out the tension and increase the girls' discomfiture.

She watched him seem to read the document, occasionally looking up at her as if to confirm what was printed on the page.

Behind the young woman, Iesha forced her expression to remain neutral. She glanced over at her sister, who merely offered a raised eyebrow in response.

"You bypassed a secure area, made your way across a landing field, stowed aboard an alien vessel, and remained hidden until it took off," Tyrion set the paper aside and looked at her again. "Why?"

She looked away, though her expression lost none of its ferocity.

"Did you think you could remain hidden the entire time?" Tyrion continued. "Did you actually believe you could join the ranks of this program without anyone realizing you had not been selected?"

"What difference does it make!" she suddenly shot back vehemently. "I came here because I wanted to come here! I may not be of noble blood, and you may only think of me as a stupid girl,"

"Impressive, was the word I had in mind, actually," Tyrion cut her off and the fierce eyes locked on his in surprise.

Tyrion leaned forward again and shrugged. "You've seen the creatures we work with. You've seen the weapons that we use, know how vicious the Kajano can be, never mind the fact that my people are dangerous, and yet, you decided to risk all that and stow aboard one of their ships. You just may be the gutsiest girl on this rock."

At that compliment, Freya's expression began to lighten and a smile started to appear.

"Or you might just be the stupidest bitch I have ever met," Tyrion finished, shattering the compliment.

He tented his fingers together, his thumbs tapping absently as he looked in her eyes.

He nodded to the twins. "What do you think?"

The twins exchanged a glance and both offered a shrug as if to say, "not my choice."

Freya looked at them and then back at Tyrion with a fierce, pleading expression.

"Why are you here?" Tyrion tapped his fingers on the desk.

Freya never took her eyes off Tyrion, and her hands came down on the desk as she leaned forward.

"Both of my brothers were killed in the War against Sauron," she said in a voice that was almost a growl. "My father was injured at the Black Gate of Mordor."

Tyrion offered a shrug in response. "That doesn't tell me anything about you, young lady."

"All in my family believe that we should serve our king for the greater good of Gondor," Freya went on. "I am a better fighter than my brothers ever were, yet the army would not accept me because I'm a girl. Then I see you and your people, and you have women fighting alongside you."

"We selected your people based on very specific criteria," Tyrion explained.

"You selected men based on who they knew and who their families were," Freya countered. "I could point out a hundred better men and women from the city who were overlooked simply because they were not born in the right family!"

Tyrion smiled. "Perhaps."

Freya rose to her feet, leaning across the desk to stare into Tyrion's eyes.

"You know how to read and write?" Tyrion asked.

That single question seemed to deflate the girl. She sank back into the chair.

"Because, if you can't, that's something else you are going to have to learn in addition to our tactics, etiquette, and weapons, if you join this program," Tyrion said.

Freya looked up, surprise evident.

"And I need you to understand something else," Tyrion leaned back in his chair. "Where we come from, women have been fighting alongside men for generations. We're all used to it." He fixed her with a dark stare. "Those men out there will not be. They may go out of their way to make sure you wash out."

Hoskins entered the room and helped himself to a second glass of mead. He turned and raised an eyebrow towards Tyrion.

"I understand," Freya nodded.

"No quarter will be given because of your gender and chances are you will have to cope with other situations," Tyrion continued. "No breaks, no favoritism. You need to do the exact same things the men do, as well as they do it, probably with some them trying to sabotage you along the way, understand?"

Freya nodded. "Yes."

Tyrion thrummed his fingers on the desk as he considered. "What's the status of the candidates?"

The Hoskins nodded. "Still shaving and suiting."

"Very well," Tyrion sat back, looking at the twins.

"I believe you two are assessing Alpha and Charlie Group's respectively, yes?"

"Yes, Master Chief," Mileasha replied smartly.

Tyrion offered Freya a frosty smile. "It appears we have a vacancy in Bravo Group, Sergeant Blaine."

Hoskins nodded. "Master Chief."

He nodded to Freya.

"Escort her to her unit," Tyrion ordered the big sergeant. Then he held his hand up and pointed at the twins. "Go with Hoss and get your individual assessor's duties."

"You're going to be busy, ladies," Hoskins added with a smile.

By the time the work was done and all men were outfitted, it was late in the afternoon. As the sun set behind the mountains, the three groups stood at attention in the log pit.

All the loose brush around the parade ground had been removed and the earth packed and smoothed. A large pile of debris burned at the far end of the grounds and a ring of white stones encircled the long pole upon which the banner of the Confederated Systems - a series of closely grouped stars surrounded by a red circle and placed on a dark blue field – fluttered in the breeze.

By the same token, the men assembled were very much different in appearance.

Every one of the men was dressed in the deep gray/black uniform fatigues, shaved and shorn. Some of the men were still rubbing their fingers on the stubble where their long hair had been frowning at what must have been a unique sensation.

Each soldier was issued with a uniform, Tactical Vest, and massive rucksack, worn on the back and packed with an additional uniform and other equipment.

Hoskins strode down the lines again, inspecting the men.

"I never saw a creature, lower born, rise from the ashes of life, to burn brighter than the stars," he began quoting as he moved down the first rank. "That which does not draw out our blood, does not serve to strengthen our resolve."

Mavon leaned closer to Silas and whispered, "Where does he come up with this stuff?"

Silas suppressed a smile. "I think he makes it up as he goes."

Hoskins paused in his poetic recitation, turning to glare at an individual.

The recruit had been caught suppressing a smile.

"Is there something funny, recruit?" Hoskins faced.

The man's expression fell and he shook his head. "No, My Lord."

"My Lord?" Hoskins seemed insulted. "Do I look like one of those fancy fops in your big old palace, boy?"

The man scrambled. "No! No, sir!" he stammered.

"Sir?" Hoskins was infuriated now, stepping to put his face inches from the nervous recruit. "You see any butter on my uniform, mister? Don't call me sir, I work for a living!"

He turned back to the company. "When you address me, you will call me Drill Sergeant! The only response I will accept is 'Yes Drill Sergeant', understood?"

He turned back and singled out another figure standing in the ranks. "You got that pea brain?"

The man, taken by surprise at Hoskins focus stammered a response.

"You broken, boy?" Hoskins bellowed at him. "You know how to speak?"

"Yes Drill Sergeant," The man replied.

"I can't hear you!" Hoskins roared.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" The man shouted back.

Another figure suppressed a laugh and Hoskins spun to face this new victim.

"Something amusing you, nugget?" he asked.

"No, Drill Sergeant!" the man snapped straight and replied.

"No?" Hoskins raised an eyebrow. "Didn't you hear me tell you monkeys that 'Yes Drill Sergeant' was the only answer I will accept?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" the man replied.

"So you don't think the rules apply to you, then?" Hoskins shot back.

The man opened his mouth to protest, but then remembered the only answer available to him, and his mouth snapped shut.

"What's the matter, boy?" Hoskins asked. "You forget how to speak? You were doing just fine a minute ago!"

The recruit clenched his jaw.

"Think you might be better than anyone else here, that it?"

Again the man kept silent.

"Answer me, you little shit!" Hoskins bellowed.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" The man squealed.

Hoskins took a pace back and nodded.

"What's your name, boy?"

"Illis, son of Hallas," he caught himself before saying the wrong thing. "Drill Sergeant."

"I see," Hoskins stepped back, looked at the assembly, and indicated the logs lying on the ground before them. Each log was long enough for fifteen of the men to manipulate together.

"Break into groups of fifteen!" Hoskins ordered. "And get in front of those logs."

The men moved, dividing into ten groups each standing in front of a long timber.

"This is my log pit," Hoskins explained. "And those are my logs! You will not drop them, you will not break them, you will not even fucking scratch them!"

He indicated the area in which the candidates stood.

"Understand," he continued. "I do not allow spitting or pissing in my log pit. If you gotta piss or puke, or spit, you get the hell out of my pit!"

He quickly explained and demonstrated the exercises that the candidates would be required to perform and then had them stand ready.

He stood at the front of the formation, looked to see Felix, Prost, Mavon, and Silas all standing around the perimeter.

"Gentlemen," Hoskins said flatly. "Welcome to the Beast! Get those logs up!"

The groups bent and lifted the timbers, hugging them against their chests.

"Begin!" Hoskins bellowed and he began counting the cadence. Each group began bending at the waist, forward and back in time with his calls. It was only a matter of minutes before some of the recruits began to pale.

The assessors began moving up and down the lines, watching the candidates closely and shouting at them to keep working.

A freshly shaved and shorn candidate with the number one on his uniform clenched his teeth as he worked to move his share of the one thousand pound log.

"What's going on, Number One?" Mavon asked. "You know you're cursed right?"

"That's right," Silas commented. "Number One never passes!"

"You hear that?" Mavon asked. "You think you can break that curse, Number One?"

The man clenched his teeth but said nothing.

"You can't talk while you work out, Number One?" Mavon went on.

Prost was moving up and down the lines, his eyes moving from candidate to candidate.

"I usually walk down the line looking to pull the weak ones out of the line, but this time, I'm looking for strong ones, because you are all weak!" He shouted. He stopped before another candidate. "What's going on One Ten?" he got close to the man. He was pale with sweat dripping down his face. "You look tired already! We just got started!"

All the while, Hoskins kept up the blistering cadence as the rest of the team moved through the ranks.

"Drop it!" Hoskins called. "Push ups, now! Legs on the log! Go! One, Two, Three, Four!"

The candidates dropped and began pushing themselves off the ground.

Mavon came to a stop before the stowaway, Freya.

"Happy you came along, One Thirty Four?" he shouted at her. "Come on! Train, train, train! This is what you wanted, sweetheart! You're going to get it all now!"

"Flip!" Hoskins bellowed. "Leg drills! Now!"

The rotation went for hours. The candidates rotated drills, sometimes clutching the log to their chests and bending fore and back, or lifting it to the shoulder and bending side to side. Then they dropped and did pushups, sit ups, leg lifts, or stood stationary, holding the logs above their heads.

After only an hour, several candidates began breaking away to stagger or crawl to the edge of the log pit. Some collapsed from exhaustion, or expelled the contents of their bellies. The air was tainted with the smell of sweat and vomit.

"What are you doing Fifteen?" Hoskins bellowed when one particularly nauseous candidate rolled over after puking his guts out. "You need a rest? Come on, get back on the log! Move it! Move it!"

"Over the head!" He shouted, and the logs lifted from shoulders to be held high.

"What's happening Sixty-Eight?" Prost stepped over to a man who only held one hand above his head. His other arm was frozen level with his shoulder. "You so strong you can hold that one handed?"

The man groaned, his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

"Push ups!" Hoskins called.

The log dropped and the candidates followed.

Number Sixty-Eight, a powerfully built man, pushed in vain to raise his body.

"Speak up, boy!" Prost shouted. "Are you injured?"

There was something obviously wrong, and Prost dropped to a knee, his voice suddenly more compassionate.

"Stop," he said. "See the medic."

He helped the man up and guided him over to Felix, who was already working on half a dozen men.

Felix finished with his current patient and turned to the man with the shoulder issue. He gave a quick, thorough inspection and found the problem in the man's shoulder.

"I can do it," The man protested.

"Sorry bub," he said. "Blown shoulder. You're done."

He turned to Prost. "Number Sixty-Eight, Voluntarily Withdrawal."

Prost lifted his datapad and checked off the number on the roster.

Before the end of the second hour, men began dropping out of the groups and voluntarily removing their numbers, placing them on the stage, and stumbling off to the side towards the air field.

A few minutes into the second hour, with groups reforming to make up for the loss of recruits, Mavon led another man from the pit. His skin was pale and his eyes were bleary and unfocused.

He was walking with an unsteady gate, and seemed to not know where he was.

"Where are you?" Mavon asked.

The man blinked, looking around. "Another pint, please," he said in a flat tone.

"Do you know where you are?" Mavon asked.

"My Lord?" the man replied in a distant voice.

"Oh, he's gone," Silas commented. "Get him hydrated and keep an eye on him, Doc."

Mavon took the man over by Felix.

"Seventy-Two," Mavon reported. "V.W."

He helped the man sit down and turned back to the pit.

The man blinked, looking back at the candidates still holding the logs. "I can do this," he muttered. "I shall return."

"Take a break," Felix offered him water. "You're done."

After the third hour, the weight of the logs finally began to win, and the candidates were unable to lift them.

"Get em up!" Hoskins bellowed, and to their credit, the remaining candidates tried, but exhaustion had finally brought most of them to the limits of their endurance. One by one, the logs fell to the earth.

"Can't hold them?" Hoskins shouted angrily. "Alright, I got something you can do! Drop!"

The candidates collapsed to the earth.

"Roll right!" Hoskins bellowed, and the candidates began rolling through the damp mud towards one side of the pit.

"Roll left!" Hoskins changed it up. "Move it!"

"What's going on One Thirty Four?" Prost stepped over before Freya. "You can't roll? Move it! This is easy!"

The man next to her reached out and helped the exhausted girl roll over.

"Don't help her!" Prost ordered. "Just roll over her!"

The man complied and rolled unceremoniously over the smaller girl.

"Left face!" Hoskins ordered. "Pull your asses across the pit! You're legs are gone! I don't want to see no legs moving, drag em!"

They were five hours in now, and twenty-five of the candidates had already quit or been washed out because of injury, exhaustion, or mental failing.

"Arms behind the back!" Hoskins changed it up again. "About face, shoulders only, crawl! Get your heads in the mud! Move it!"

The candidates were covered in mud, filthy, sweaty, some of them had vomited and continued, smearing the mess into the mud and their clothing.

At this point, more recruits simply gave up, pulling their bodies out of the pit and staggering off, sometimes oblivious to where they were. Each individual was given water, a medical evaluation, and washed from the program.

Xena and Gabrielle strode into the yard, drawn by the voices and the occasional groans or cries.

Gabrielle's eyes went wide when she saw the state of the wash outs.

"This is monstrous!" she breathed in horror.

Xena merely shook her head.

"We have to stop this!" Gabrielle turned to Xena.

"Gabrielle," Xena grabbed the bard's arm when she turned to walk towards the pit.

Gabrielle looked up at Xena questioningly.

"This is their way," Xena said, indicating Silas and Hoskins. "And those people volunteered for this."

Gabrielle looked back at the pit and then back to Xena. "You can't approve of this?"

Xena nodded her head toward Felix.

"No one is going to die here, Gabrielle," she offered.

Gabrielle looked and saw Felix working on several candidates.

"And," Xena continued. "I do approve of this."

Gabrielle was flabbergasted. "You what?"

Xena smiled and led the young bard away from the pit. "Gabrielle. Part of being a soldier is being ready to survive in any environment, in any situation. Sometime you have to have the men do things to toughen them up."

Gabrielle stammered. "Toughen them up?"

She turned back, outraged, to go and confront Hoskins.

Xena yanked the angry bard back again. "We can offer to help Felix with the wounded," she raised a cautioning finger. "But that's all. Understand?"

"But," Gabrielle stammered.

Xena raised her eyebrow. "Gabrielle?"

The young bard looked back at the pit, then to Felix, surrounded by injured recruits. Reluctantly, she nodded.

"Say it," Xena demanded.

When Gabrielle wouldn't look her in the eye, Xena put two fingers under the bards chin and raised her gaze up.

The eyes looking back at her were frosty green.

"Gabrielle," Xena repeated firmly.

"I understand," Gabrielle shot back with asperity.

After eight grueling hours and almost a third of the candidates washed out, Hoskins called a halt to the exercises. The respite was short lived as he ordered them to form two ranks, pointing them towards a nearby path.

With Hoskins bellowing at them, the entire group jogged from the parade area and vanished down one of the wider paths leading to a five mile loop that Hoskins and the others had cut through the woods. The path moved around the perimeter of their training area, down several gentle hills until it reached level ground for two miles. The final two miles were a steep jog up hill to the eastern side of Rivendell.

Gabrielle stood across from a small table where she and Felix were preparing bandages and other items for the recruits return. Her face was set in a disapproving scowl.

"I'm guessing, by the temperature drop," Felix began with a smile. "That you're annoyed with me?"

Gabrielle stopped and looked up at him frostily.

Felix raised his hands in surrender. "Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

His smile faded when she looked away from him and resumed prepping the supplies.

"Hey," Felix stepped around the table. He turned her and looked into her eyes. "Hey, what's going on?"

Gabrielle's gaze softened to something more compassionate and she gestured to the camp around them.

"All this," she confessed.

Felix frowned. "All this – what?"

Then the realization set in. "You mean the training?"

"More like torture," Gabrielle countered.

"Gabrielle," Felix smiled. "No one is being tortured here. And no one is going to be hurt either. Yes, they are going to be stiff, sore, tired, and probably a little teche for a while, but that's it."

She fixed him with a dark look.

Felix thought for a moment, his hands hovering before him.

"Think of it this way," he explained. Then he paused again, as if trying to find the best way to explain. "The human body can survive in freezing water for about two or three minutes before hypothermia begins to shut your body down, right?"

She frowned. "Hypo – what?"

Felix sighed as he tried to consider another approach.

"On your world," he began again. "Are there individuals who perform actions that normal people cannot do?"

Gabrielle nodded. "Sure."

"How did they learn to do those thing?" Felix asked. "They trained their bodies to endure those conditions, right?"

Again, Gabrielle nodded.

"Same thing happening here," Felix smiled. "And at first it is difficult, but these people are going to have to be able to survive in extreme conditions, without support, food, water, sleep, for extended periods of time in order to accomplish the missions we're expecting. In order to do that, we have to expose them to those conditions and help them acclimate. It would be a hundred times crueler to just turn them loose and leave them in an environment that could be fatal without giving them every chance to survive, right?"

Gabrielle's hard expression softened a bit. "I suppose."

"Xena!" Silas called as the Warrior Princess strode past him. "I need a favor from you."

"What do you need?" Xena asked.

"I need you to lecture the kiddies," Silas grinned. "Something long, drawn out, boring as hell."

Xena began to smile, understanding. When she spoke, her voice was soft, almost hypnotic. "Something full of lots of useless details?"

Silas chuckled. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Xena nodded.

By the time the men finished their march, they would be exhausted. Their muscles would be stiff from exertion, their bellies, sour from lack of food or water, covered in grime and filth.

Silas called the rest of the team together. They quickly set up a cook station off to the side of the parade area and began preparing food for the returning troops.

"If I know Hoss," Silas was smiling. "The nuggets will have about five minutes to eat chow."

Felix was grinning. "Probably have a few sprains and strains when they get back, too."

They set up a medical tent next to the cook pavilion.

A little over an hour later, Hoskins and R.C. came bellowing back into the parade area, sheparding the exhausted recruits.

Many of them found a place and collapsed, chests heaving.

Hoskins looked over at Silas, who nodded to a nearby entrance.

He looked over to see Xena standing by the entrance. She nodded understanding and vanished inside. Hoskins smiled.

"On your feet, nuggets!" He bellowed. "Chow line is open! Grab your food! Move it!"

The team served them mixtures of bread, prepackaged protein, and other items as Hoskins moved them through the line at record pace.

As the last man received his tray of food, he stepped back out with two trash bins in his hands.

"Chow's over!" he bellowed. "Dump your trash in these two bins, now! Move it! Move it!"

The recruits, unfamiliar with the pace, were shocked and enraged, since many had not had a chance to finish the meal. The ones at the end of the chow line only had time to take two or three bites.

"Quit munching!" Prost shouted. "Let's go!"

"Prost is stepping right into the part," Iesha grumbled as she rose and dumped the contents of her tray into a bin.

"Class time, kids!" Hoskins bellowed. "Get your tails into the central barracks, now! Don't fall asleep on me or I'll have your heads for supper! Move it!"

The central barracks was an old dining hall, large enough to house all of the recruits. Tyrion and Silas had also taken the time to place embers from the myriad of fires in the complex, into cast iron pots, and place them in the oversized room. The result was a balmy warmth in the room that would make the already weary recruits even more susceptible to sleep.

They all filed in, collapsing in seats, or on benches.

Hoskins bellowed for the last of the recruits to get into the room and then strolled to the front of the barracks.

Xena stood at the front of the room, her hands clasped at her waist, smiling at the exhausted recruits.

"Good evening," she said in a surprisingly gentle tone. "This evening, we will be discussing the tactical advantages of various methods of deployment within protracted battle situations."

Her voice was measured, soothing, almost monotonous. As she launched into the complex and excessively boring dissertation and it was clear that the technical aspects of the speech meant nothing to the new recruits. It was only a matter of a few minutes before some of the wearier the recruits, lulled by her voice and relaxed by the warm air in the room, began to nod off.

In truth, the lecture had nothing to do with the training, per se, but showed Hoskins which of the recruits were sharp enough to remain focused. Those with the wits to stay awake might glean some useful information to help them later, but the actual exercise was in being able to maintain focus in rapidly changing environments.

As she spoke, she noted several of the recruits' serrupticously pulling scraps of food from their pockets and eating as a method of staying alert.

Her eyes fell on the stowaway, Freya. The young woman sat at attention, clearly worn out, but straight. Her red-rimmed eyes were locked on Xena's and she blinked often as she forced herself to remain awake.

Next to her, Illis was nodding off, his head leaning forward as his eyes closed.

Freya nudged him with her elbow, and his head snapped back up.

Then, to his surprise, Xena saw her slide some food into his hand.

Her first day and she had already adapted to stay sharp and was cultivating allies.

Xena glanced over at Hoskins, standing at the back of the room and he nodded, indicating that he, too, had seen what the recruit had done. Hoskins gave Xena a wink.

At the end of an hour, most of the recruits had succumbed and were dozing in their seats.

Xena finished her lecture and stood at the head of the class for a moment, looking about the room.

"Those of you still conscious," Hoskins said quietly from the rear of the room. "Report to barracks and grab some sleep. Do not make a sound."

Prost quietly opened the door.

A few of the lighter sleepers awoke anyway, but that was all right. It was the poor bastards who had dropped completely off that Hoskins was about to educate. The lesson would deter the lighter sleepers in the future.

Once the conscious recruits were out of the room, Hoskins pulled a flash grenade from his vest and waved Xena to exit the room.

She edged silently along the wall to the doorway and paused as Hoskins held up a hand.

"Stick around," he grinned. "I think you'll like this."

She looked over at Prost and saw that he, too, had one of the devices in his hand.

Hoskins nodded to Prost and pulled the pin on his grenade, tossing the device into the center of the room.

The two objects clattered quietly on the floor, and rolled to a stop in the middle of the sleeping recruits.

"Duck," Hoskins hissed and the three stepped out of the door, swinging it shut behind them. The devices exploded, filling the room with a pair of brilliant white flashes and ear-splitting cracks.

The sleeping men fell over in panic, many of them crying out in surprise as they scrambled to their feet, stumbling into each other, blinded, with ears ringing.

Hoskins, Xena, and Prost came back into the room and let the recruits mill about in confusion for a few more seconds, more to allow the ringing in their ears to subside.

"Hey!" Hoskins roared.

Fifteen blinking, disoriented men turned in shock to face him.

"You're all dead!" Hoskins bellowed. "You monkey's fell asleep on duty, and the enemy came into your house and murdered you where you sat! How's that feel?"

The men, still bleary, looked at one another.

"Stand to fucking attention when I'm talking to you!" Hoskins roared angrily.

The men all snapped straight.

"First fucking day, and this is what I get?" Hoskins went on. He did a quick count and began walking towards the exit. "Fall out! Three ranks, in the center of the parade grounds, now!"

Prost waited for Hoskins to exit, then opened the second door.

"You heard the man, ladies!" He shouted. "Move it!"

Fifteen bleary eyed, disoriented men, stumbled out into the central yard.

The activity caught the attention of the other recruits who were still awake. The braver ones peeked out from the doors of the sleeping quarters to see what would happen.

"I have heard that dead men feel no pain," Hoskins said. "And since all of you monkeys are dead, you should feel nothing, am I right?"

The men, some of them swaying dangerously, said nothing.

"Am I right?" Hoskins bellowed dangerously.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" the men shouted drunkenly.

"I can't fucking hear you!" Hoskins shouted.

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" They replied again, only a little louder.

"Sergeant Prost!" Hoskins turned to his partner. "Dead Man's march! Five miles, double time it, if you please!"

Prost smiled. "Yes, Drill Sergeant!"

"Anyone drops, they'll run it again!" Hoskins said angrily. "And again, and again, until they get it right!"

"Alright girls!" Prost said angrily. "You heard the man! Packs on, double time! Move out!"

As the last of the recruits stumbled into the shadows, Xena stepped up to Hoskins and smiled. "That was interesting."

"Bet none of those fuckers ever do that again," Hoskins chuckled. Then he turned back to the other recruits staring after their comrades.

"What are you looking at?" he bellowed. "Feeling left out? I can fix that!"

The recruits vanished to a man.

Hoskins waited to see if anyone showed their noses again and then turned towards the officers' quarters.

"Not doing the second lap with them, sergeant?" Tyrion smiled as Hoskins entered his office.

"Hell no, sir," Hoskins smiled as he dropped into the chair opposite Tyrion. "I'm old."

Tyrion smiled.

"Besides," Hoskins went on. "I want to give Prost a chance to stretch his legs a bit."

"He seems to be doing well as a sergeant, despite passing a rank and not having to take the exam," Tyrion chuckled.

"No shit, right?" Hoskins agreed. "If I had known he'd take to it so well, I would have promoted him while we were still working for Gaw."

Tyrion slid a glass of amber liquid across the desk.

"Yours?" Hoskins asked.

"Absolutely," Tyrion replied. "Enjoy it while you can. There isn't much left."

Hoskins took a cautious drink, nodded in approval and downed the rest of the glass in one go.

"What's the pool?" He asked.

"I'm thinking they'll only do one lap," Tyrion replied. "Felix is saying three."

Hoskins chuckled. "It won't be that bad. "I'll let Prost do this lap, if anyone gets left behind, they'll do another, then I'll get the rest of them up again and keep moving."

Tyrion nodded. "Keep in mind, these are not your usual recruits. Most of these men do have prior combat experience. You may have a few boxing matches in your future."

Hoskins rose and smiled. "Only adds to the fun, Master Chief."

Xena stood on a nearby balcony and watched the second, smaller group jog out of the clearing.

"What's happening?" Gabrielle asked as she stepped up next to her friend.

Xena shrugged. "They just took a group on another march."

Gabrielle leaned on the rail and looked down at the silent yard.

"I thought you'd be with Felix," Xena offered.

Gabrielle shook her head. "He's going to be busy with this," she indicated the cluster of buildings below. "For the next few days, at least."

She looked down at the parade ground and shivered. "Did you know they won't let those people sleep more than a few minutes for the first two days?"

Xena raised her eyebrow.

"Two days with little or no sleep," Gabrielle went on. "And they'll be running and learning about the weapons, and who knows what else for the whole time."

As they watched, Hoskins began bringing out the trash bins from the meal, and setting them up at intervals along the edge of the grounds.

"Now what is he doing?" Gabrielle asked.

"Feeding the troops, I expect," Xena replied, frowning.

Gabrielle winced. "But that's, oh Gods. That's terrible!"

Hoskins paused in the center of the yard, listening for the returning troops.

The sound of Prost's voice, bellowing, was the first indication of the group's return.

At that, Hoskins picked up a long metal pipe and an empty bin. He stepped from one barracks to the other, banging the container and bellowing at the top of his lungs. The sleeping recruits, who had managed to get less than an hour of rest, came stumbling, bleary eyed, into the moonlight as the first of Prosts group came stumbling into the camp.

Many of the recruits who had been forced on the second run were pale, drawn, and on the verge of collapse. Several veered to one side, bent double and vomited before continuing into the parade ground.

"You cannot tell me that you subject your recruits to this!" Denethor protested as he emerged from the barracks and witnessed the rest of the men, grabbing handfuls of the recently cooked meals from the bins.

Hoskins stepped up and looked Denethor in the eye.

"I demand that you take me to see Master Tyrion," Denethor continued. "Immediately."

Hoskins actually smiled.

"Of course," he replied agreeably. He gestured towards the team's quarters.

"This way, please."

Denethor stepped into the newly reclaimed room and found Tyrion seated at his desk. The Master Chief rose and nodded in greeting.

"I understand you wanted to speak with me?"

Denethor, who looked strange with his long hair and beard shaved, nodded.

"I must protest the treatment of the men so far," he began. "And this is only the first day."

Tyrion gestured to the seat opposite and then sat down.

He gestured for Denethor to continue.

"The men are unrested and hungry," Denethor began. "Some have been driven to sickness, and now, your man has them ferreting scraps from the refuse!"

"I see," Tyrion looked past Denethor to Hoskins. "Is this true, Sergeant?"

"Yes, Master Chief," Hoskins replied.

Tyrion nodded.

"The men have had no time to recover after their ordeals, and are in no condition to continue," Denethor continued. Tyrion raised a hand.

"When your men are tired during battle, do you ask your enemy to pause and let them recover?" he asked amicably. "When they have been under siege and supplies are dwindling, do your opponents permit additional supplies to be delivered to you?"

"Of course not," Denethor replied.

"The training regimen that Sergeant Blaine provides, is specifically designed to condition the men to be able to function for an extended period of time, on less resources, with less recuperation," Tyrion said evenly. "When you agreed to come here, you agreed to receive training the way it is done by my people."

"You cannot tell me that you subject your troops to these conditions at the beginning," Denethor protested.

"Yes I can," Tyrion replied flatly. "You have two choices, recruit. You can complete the training that you volunteered to complete, or you can take the walk. Dismissed."

"May I remind you," Denethor began.

Tyrion shot to his feet and leaned across the desk, level with Denethor.

"May I remind you, recruit!" He put an edge on the word 'recruit', "That you left any title and privilege you enjoyed back in Gondor! You voiced a concern, it has been responded to, and this interview is over! Dismissed!"

Denethor opened his mouth to protest, but Hoskins put a hand on his shoulder.

"Ratchet it down, son," he said.

Denethor looked back into Tyrion's eyes and realized that the sergeant was correct.

He mustered what remained of his dignity, stood up straight and departed.

Once the noble was gone, Hoskins rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"They're a tough bunch, Master Chief," he said. "Usually I get attacked two or three times by now, and the sons of a bitches haven't tried yet."

Tyrion nodded at the space where Denethor had been standing.

"That man does not get a lead position until I say so," he instructed. "Understood?"

"Understood, Master Chief," Hoskins nodded. "By your leave?"

"Dismissed."

The recruits were allowed two hours of rest, if it could be called that, before the training resumed. The two sergeants then had the men running ragged. Many men could not maintain the pace, and men began to drop from exhaustion, or step out of rank to vomit before blankly falling back into line and continuing the conditioning.

After the third day, Hoskins had Felix, along with his med kit, accompany the recruits and provide medical supervision to ensure none of the men suffered a fatal collapse.

By then, sixty of the recruits had been washed out.

Days five and six brought ten more withdrawals, and Tyrion looked out of his window to see the recruits, pale and exhausted, trudging to the quartermaster tent to return the uniforms and reclaim their old equipment.

The Synthoid, Jeeves, accepted and cataloged the equipment, noting damaged or missing items and logged them for future reference.

The seventh day brought the most washouts, with a full twenty men turning in their numbers and taking "the walk".

At that point, Tyrion called for Nicolla.

"Time to start shipping the washouts back to Aragorn," he said.

Nicolla nodded.

"Take the first load and let Aragorn know what the drill is," Tyrion continued. "Let him know that these men may need a few days rest before returning to normal duty."

"Yes, sir," Nicolla offered a mock salute and smiled.

Hoskins and Prost kept up the blistering training regiment as the second and final week began, increasing the duration or difficulty of the drills and incorporating timed runs through a newly constructed obstacle course as the recruits gained more endurance and confidence.

The squads were assigned and reorganized into ten man groups, with leaders assigned to the individual units.

Something else began to change, and Gabrielle noticed it in the middle of the second week. The dread and horror at the hardships was slowly being replaced by a shared sense of camaraderie, and the recruits spent more time aiding one another and working together instead of trying to work independently.

Despite his constant mask of disapproval, Hoskins was secretly proud of the men of this world.

As per instruction, Denethor had not been given command of a squad, and was forced to take orders from a former subordinate.

Surprisingly, the son of the Squire of Osgiliath seemed to take the reversal in stride, occasionally offering advice, but never attempting to usurp his authority.

The most surprising turn of events, however, was the fact that the stowaway, Freya, was still in the program, and in fact was progressing as well as many of the men, despite ongoing attempts to sabotage her efforts. Her tenacity had earned her the respect of most of the men in the program, including its commanding officer. A few local holdouts remained, however, believing fervently that the peasant girl had no place in the military.

The final two days brought a sudden steady rain that transformed the obstacle course into a muddy morass. Tyrion and Hoskins stood on an observation platform, watching the recruits running the course.

The squad containing the peasant girl, Freya, stormed across the slick ground towards the first impediment, a twenty-foot wall. Freya darted ahead of the group and crouched at the base, boosting each man up and motioning the rest of the team forward, shouting encouragement as the first five men made it over easily. The sixth man placed his foot in her cupped hands, leapt, grabbed for a hold, and slipped back.

Before he could try again, the diminutive Freya stepped up to the base of the wall and cupped her hands together, again, boosting the man up, and then slipping underneath to place her shoulders under the man's feet. She stood, pushing the man the rest of the way up, then returned to her position, helping boost the remaining four men up, one after the other.

The last man hoisted himself up and reached down. She grasped his hand and placed her feet against the wall.

The man pulled her half way up, paused, smiled, and released, sending her spilling into the mud.

Then he dropped out of sight.

"That's some bullshit, right there!" Hoskins blurted angrily, moving towards the ladder.

"Wait," Tyrion watched as the girl picked herself up, glaring at the wall. She took several paces back, got a running start and leapt. Her fingertips found purchase between two planks and she cried out as she scrabbled up and over.

"Come on," Tyrion led Hoskins from the tower and down to the end of the course.

The argument threatened to boil over into a full blown brawl when the two instructors approached.

"You're a lying bastard, Asten!" One of the men shouted angrily.

"It's not my fault the little bitch can't pull her own weight!" the offender retorted. "I'll not put my life in the hands of some little whelp half my size!"

Another man stepped up and struck the Asten sending him sprawling.

"Enough!" Freya protested.

Illis stepped up and hauled Asten to his feet, only to be struck by the enraged man. Another man dove, tackling Asten back to the ground.

"What the fuck is all this!" Hoskins bellowed. "Stand to you monkeys!"

The men all froze and looked up as the two men approached.

"Fall in!" Hoskins roared. "What's this dustup all about?"

"Nothing, Drill Sergeant," Illis replied immediately as he and the others quickly fell into two ranks.

Hoskins turned to face Illis. "Don't bullshit me, nugget!"

He began walking up and down the line. "I want to know what this dustup is about, and who started it!"

No one moved.

"Who started this monkey fuck!" Hoskins bellowed again.

"I'm responsible for it, Sergeant," Freya offered.

"You?" Hoskins wheeled on her. "You were trying to break this up when I got here! Who threw the first punch?"

A recruit toward the other end, a lean man named Uthir took a step forward. "I did, Drill Sergeant," he confessed.

Hoskins looked back and Tyrion, who stood, studying the group intently.

Uthir was not the man the two instructors had seen abandon Freya, but they recognized the gesture for what it was. Uthir was stepping up, prepared to take one for the team.

Hoskins fixed an angry glare on him and gave a grunt.

He turned and paced back.

"I want all you monkeys to look at the person on your left, and then look at the person on your right!" He bellowed. "In the field, when you're hip deep in the shit, those individuals may be the only ones who keeps you alive! You may be the only thing that keeps them alive, understand me?"

"Yes Drill Sergeant!" They all barked in unison.

"Never quit!" Hoskins went on. "Never surrender! Repeat after me: Go Loud!"

The men shouted the statement.

"Go strong!"

Again they replied.

"Go proud!"

The recruits barked in response.

"Go on!"

They were focused, and intense.

"Go hard!"

They were screaming themselves hoarse now.

Hoskins stopped before the recruit who had abandoned Freya in the obstacle course. He was as fervent as the rest of the squad, his eyes ablaze with intensity.

Hoskins reached past the first rank and hauled the man forward so fast that his feet left the ground. He held the front of the mans vest and lifted him to within an inch of the big sergeants face.

"Go home!" he growled.

He shoved the guilty recruit away with such force that the man skidded several yards through the mud, coming to a stop at Tyrion's feet.

Tyrion had his side arm drawn, aimed at the recruits head.

"You never duck your responsibility, boy!" Hoskins rage exploded. "And you never, ever leave a man behind!"

His finger flew at the recruit, Uthir, who had stepped forward to accept the responsibility.

"The fact that you were about to let that man take the fall for your shit!" he stopped, unable to finish the statement.

His entire body vibrated with barely contained rage.

He took a deep breath, then another, forcing the violence back down. Then he stepped over and stood above the recruit.

Tyrion holstered his weapon.

"You have ten seconds to get off my base or I will have your head for dinner!" His voice was hoarse as the rage threatened to erupt again. His hand instinctively went to his own weapon.

The man, shocked, confused, and terrified, did not move. He simply looked up, wide eyed and pale, at the two infuriated men.

"Get your ass out of my camp!" Hoskins voice bounced off the distant hills and reverberated through the entire village like the roar of some ancient beast.

The recruit fled in terror.

Hoskins turned back to the others. "Don't never leave a man behind," he growled as he stormed past the rest of the squad.

Illis, Uthir, Freya, and the rest of the squad stood at attention, afraid to move, lest they receive some form of punishment as well.

"Fall out!" Tyrion ordered. "Get cleaned up." Then, he too, departed.

They all relaxed, but it wasn't until the two trainers had vanished from sight that most of them remembered to breath.

Nicolla banked her ship down towards the newly established camp. The armies of Gondor and Rohan had modified their setup to incorporate a cleared area near the royal tent, in order to facilitate the recurring trips made by the dropship.

This time, there was only one passenger aboard. The dejected and terrified traitor of Illis's squad still sat, shivering in the jump seat below.

"Will you report him, Miss?" Jeeves asked conversationally.

"You bet your ass I will," Nicolla shot back angrily.

Her terse tone ended any additional comments that the synthoid may have planned to offer.

The ship settled to the ground and Nicolla, outraged by what she had heard, stormed from the flight deck and grabbed the man by the arm, lugging him towards the ramp.

The recruit was easily a full head taller than the fiery pilot, but three weeks of exhaustive training had left him unable to prevent her from manhandling him.

She shoved him ahead and then added to his insult by giving him a swift kick to the posterior that propelled him forward, off the ramp and face first into the dirt.

When he looked up, the first thing he saw was a pair of fine leather boots. His eyes travelled upwards until they found the face of his king, staring back at him questioningly.

"My Lord," he stammered.

Aragorn, clearly displeased, looked up at Nicolla.

"Yet another interesting tale, I expect?" he asked.

"Where we come from, sir," Nicolla said icily. "In the field, we would execute him for what he did."

Aragorn looked back down at the prostrate man and then back at Nicolla.

"I will hear this tale," he offered, raising a hand to forestall her. "But in private, for I also have a concern I wish to discuss."

Her outrage gave way to curiosity.

Aragorn looked down at the sprawling man once more. "Take him and clean him up," he ordered a servant.

He then turned and strode towards his tent.

Nicolla followed.

The tent was lavishly appointed, as before, divided into two separate rooms, one for entertaining or council, the second, in the rear of the edifice, was the king and queen's private room.

Queen Arwen emerged from that room as Aragorn lifted the flap and preceded the young pilot into the main chamber.

"Mistress Nicolla," Arwen smiled in greeting. "Well met."

"Majesty," Nicolla replied nervously.

The table was laid out with an evening meal. A third setting was quickly brought in and set for Nicolla at the center side of the table.

"Please, join us," Arwen offered graciously. "Some wine, perhaps?"

"No, thank you, Majesty," Nicolla replied, seating herself at the table.

"Very well," Aragorn nodded, as if concluding some internal debate.

He seated himself at one end while Arwen folded herself into the other chair, essentially flanking the young pilot on both sides.

"Many of the volunteers taken by Master Tyrion have reported to me, tales of the methods your friends employ."

Nicolla said nothing, fixing her green eyes on Aragorn. His concern was plain.

"I cannot say I am overly pleased with what I have learned, Mistress Shiel," Aragorn continued. "Is what I have heard true?"

"What have you heard?" Nicolla gulped.

"Over half of the volunteers, expelled within the first week," Aragorn began. "Returned to me, sickly, worn, and unnourished. Reports that the men were not fed, were forced to march for miles, carry the trunks of trees until they fell ill, denied rest, denied the privileges of their station, shall I go on?"

Nicolla shook her head. "No. You're absolutely correct."

"Correct about which part?" Arwen asked.

Nicolla shrugged. "All of it."

"All of it?" Aragorn repeated tersely.

Nicolla held up her hands, part beseeching, part expressive.

"You need to realize," she looked at the king. "The first two weeks are specifically designed to weed out all but the most resilient and committed individuals. There's a reason why we call it The Beast."

"You cannot be permitted to treat these men inhumanely, Mistress Shiel," Aragorn admonished. "Regardless of the intent."

"Tyrion didn't explain all this when he suggested it?" Nicolla asked suddenly.

Aragorn paused and nodded. "I must confess that I did not truly understand what he was proposing when he told me of his intentions. Perhaps that was an error on my part."

He looked back at Nicolla. "Regardless, I must amend that misjudgment now."

"Majesty," Nicolla offered. "The Beast has already ended. At this point, the training regiment decreases in intensity to better facilitate learning our methods, weapons, and unique skills."

She looked back and forth between them.

"By my understanding," Aragorn mused. "Master Tyrion still has sixty-two of my men at his disposal. Are you saying that even some who completed this Beast will be returned?"

Nicolla nodded.

"And is it true that a member of the peasantry managed to gain entry to this endeavor?" Aragorn went on. "A girl?"

His eyes glanced in the direction of his wife, and she returned his gaze with a cautionary one of her own.

"Yes, sir," Nicolla replied.

"You, of all people, my love," Arwen interjected gently. "Should realize the value of those who do not stand so high." She offered a smile.

That argument quashed, Aragorn actually smiled. "Very well. I shall not protest that point."

"Very wise, my love," Arwen smiled again. Then she looked at Nicolla.

"Be at ease, Mistress Nicolla," she offered. "We have heard tales that concern us, and we must address them. You have nothing to fear."

"Now," Aragorn poured himself a goblet of wine. "What of this man you returned this evening. What is his crime?"

"He abandoned his comrades in the field, Majesty," Nicolla said. "Something we do not condone."

"Nor do we," Aragorn nodded. "Yet I know this man. He has ever been faithful and courageous in the field."

"Except where a woman is concerned, Majesty," Nicolla replied. She then related the events leading to the recruit's dismissal.

Aragorn and Arwen exchanged a glance of surprise and then Arwen nodded.

"Very well," Aragorn also nodded. "I shall see that he receives punishment appropriate to his actions."

Nicolla sighed.

"He was bodily thrown from the ranks and ejected from the program," she admitted. "As much as I would love to see his balls in a sling," she stopped, suddenly embarrassed. "Sorry."

She took a deep breath. "He's suffered enough."

"Very well," Aragorn nodded. He leaned back in his seat, absently tapping his chin with his forefinger.

"I shall also not bring a stop to your training methods," he nodded.

"Thank you," Nicolla replied.

"However," Aragorn held up a hand, forestalling any additional comment. "I shall require something from Master Tyrion in return."

Nicolla was suddenly wary. "What, Your Majesty?"

Aragorn looked across at Arwen, smiled, and then looked back at the young pilot.

"A demonstration."

"A demonstration?" Tyrion repeated, turning from the fireplace. "He wants a demonstration?"

They were all in the room, discussing the upcoming training schedule.

Hoskins and Prost had two more days to wash recruits before the final fifty men would be selected, then the actual combat and specialty training would begin.

"What sort of demonstration?" Dade asked.

"He told me that he would leave that decision up to you," Nicolla replied, looking back at Tyrion. "He simply said that he "wishes to see what his faith has purchased"."

"Really?" Felix commented, a smile spreading across his face.

"Felix?" Gabrielle cautioned, recognizing the expression.

Xena noted that Mavon had a similarly mischievous look on his narrow features.

"Obviously, something non lethal," Silas added.

"Well, duh," Mileasha commented back. She looked up at Mavon. "Right, honey?"

When Mavon's grin only spread a little wider, she jabbed him in the ribs. "Right?"

"What? Yeah, sure," Mavon answered automatically.

"Okay people," Tyrion stepped away from the hearth and picked up his datapad again. "Back to business. I have the assignments for supplemental training. Everyone has something to do, and I want your best game. We'll have ten weeks to train up and then plan this demonstration," he spoke the last word as if it had a bitter taste.

"Alright," he went on. "Blaine, Moore, cover heavy weapons training. Prost, Dorn, and I will handle Sniper School. Xings, Dalton, you'll cover standard weapons and tactics. Doc, Mavon, handle special deployment, field medic, and demolitions training."

"Deployment?" Felix looked pained. "That means we'll be flying all over the place, pushing these brats out of the dropships. Why do we have to get that duty?"

"Who here jumped off the top of a city?" Tyrion shot back without hesitation.

Xena smiled, and even Gabrielle chuckled softly.

"Which leaves Nicky, Beck, and the infamous Vas twins. You will instruct in ground vehicle handling."

"What about us?" Gabrielle asked, indicating herself and Xena.

Tyrion smiled. "I didn't forget about you." He nodded to the two of them. "Meet our new hand to hand instructors."

He went back to his datapad. "Finally, Commander Billans will be our educator in games and theory. And, as always, Jeeves will help keep all this shit straight and handle quartermasters duties."

"Happy to be of service, sir," the pale synthoid replied eagerly.

Tyrion set down the data pad and moved to the center of the room.

"Okay, people," he continued. "We have two more days and then we need to select our players. I want all instructors eyeballing the recruits and making recommendations to me by twenty-two hundred hours tomorrow. Thanks for all the hard work people. Get some rest."

The following day, the remaining cadets continued training, but this time, the assessors each carried a data pad and made copious notes on the individuals and squads in preparation for their selections.

As evening fell and the sky was lit with brilliant hues of red and gold, the remaining sixty recruits assembled in the parade area for one final test.

"Good evening recruits," Hoskins greeted them with a smile. Everyone in the company had come to understand that a smile on the imposing sergeant's face meant only one thing – they were about to go through something difficult.

"One of the basic survival skills required for Special Operations, is the ability to complete a mission independently," Hoskins explained. "To that end, you will each be heading out into the woods this evening for night time navigation exercises."

He began pacing along the lines. "This exercise has three primary objectives. First: You will maintain a zero visibility profile, so no open roads or paths. Second: You will be forced to navigate, in the dark, to a predetermined point six kliks from your insertion point. If you do not reach the destination, you will be scored on how close you get. Obviously, the closer you are, the more points you will receive."

He stopped and looked at the weary faces. "Third: This exercise is crucial to your selection for the fifty slots open for the unit."

He looked around at the sixty remaining cadets. "That's right boys and girls. Ten of you monkeys will be going back to the regular army."

Heads swiveled back and forth, some wearing expressions of disbelief, while others simply remained neutral.

"Tomorrow evening," Hoskins continued. "We will make the final determination as to who will remain in this program, and who will be shipped out, so I want all of you to bring you're A game."

He stopped pacing, looked at Tyrion, Prost, and the others and then took a deep breath. All the disapproval and hostility left his expression and he nodded, offering the first genuine smile that any of them had seen since the onset of training.

"This last month," Hoskins said more quietly. "I have busted your asses to see if you have what it takes to be a member of this unit. I am here to tell you right now, that all of you have earned the right. I am proud as hell of each and every last one of you," he stopped and looked at Freya, standing rigid at the end of one line. "Yes, missy, even you."

Freya did her best, but the smile appeared on her face.

He turned back and suddenly, the genial expression was gone.

"All right you nuggets!" he bellowed, once again the formidable sergeant. "Quartermasters for equipment and then fall in here in fifteen! Assholes and elbows, girls! Move it!"

Each recruit was assigned a basic pack, compass, and a safety vest with monitoring equipment so the assessors could monitor the life signs and locations of the recruits as they moved through the exercise.

Then sixty recruits boarded the two drop ships and were flown out to a shallow valley four miles from Rivendell.

"Okay girls," Hoskins explained as the ship coasted through the mountains. "Your objective is a small observation post six kliks west of the landing zone. You will have one night to get there. There are several well-travelled paths criss-crossing the region. Use one and you are scrubbed." He grinned. "I have also been told that a trade caravan, bound for someplace called Bree is currently moving through the area. I want those bastards to pass through here and never know you were there. If you are seen by the caravan, you are scrubbed, plain and simple."

He grinned wider. "However, if you happen to stumble across them and can recon intel on their numbers and equipment, whether or not they have booze in their wagons, that will get you some extra credit. Do not go after the caravan. It is considered a target of opportunity only. If you see it, fine, if not, tough shit! Your primary objective is to reach the observation post. Understood?"  
"Yes Drill Sergeant!" Thirty voices replied instantly.

"Keep in mind, kids," Hoskins continued. "We will be out there, and we will be watching."

The dropship slowed to hover over a small clearing, turning as it oriented itself to land.

The ramp dropped to reveal tall grasses waving wildly in the vehicles jet wash.

"Good luck, cadets," Hoskins nodded. "Hit it!"

The two dropships lifted from the clearing a few moments later, and split off in two different directions so as to confuse the cadets on the ground.

Uthir watched the two ships vanish into the growing gloom and sighed.

Freya smiled. "You didn't think they would make it easy for us, did you?"

She looked back as the rest of the cadets, some singly, and others in groups of three or four, scattered into the deepening shadows.

Nearby, Illis was consulting his map, trying to ascertain their precise location.

"I thought we were supposed to do this on our own?" Uthir asked.

Freya looked around at the now empty clearing.

"We are," she grinned. Then she gave the two men a wave, turned, and jogged into the shadows.

Just before she vanished, she pointed ahead of her. "This way is west!"

Illis stood and stepped next to Uthir.

The two men had become friends during the training, and both of them had grown to respect the diminutive and fiery Freya.

"Do you think she is trying to deceive us?" Uthir asked.

Illis smiled and rubbed his shorn head.

"No," he nodded to himself. Then he indicated the shadows before them. "That is the direction we need to go."

Uthir nodded and adjusted his pack. The two men looked at each other.

"Safe journey," he offered.

Illis smiled. "And you, my friend."

The two men parted and vanished into the gloom.

The area the cadets were required to cover was a wide shallow valley that ran roughly east to west, with various levels of terrain, from dense forest to rocky shingle. Near the center of the valley, a crossroad extended to paths that led north, towards the Blue Mountains, or south back toward Rivendell. It was this crossroad that Tyrion was hoping would confuse the recruits, sending the less observant off in the wrong direction. For those cadets who managed to safely navigate to the area of the small observation tower, they would then be faced with having to traverse several rising paths up the mountain. In order to remain unseen, some climbing would be required.

Tyrion's people had been deployed to the area while the rest of the cadets were being equipped for the exercise.

Tyrion tapped his com as he watched the data pad screen showing the sixty-two dots representing the cadets.

"Anything interesting?"

Felix replied almost immediately. "Number forty-two is heading in the wrong direction already."

He chuckled. "If he doesn't pull his head out of his ass in the next fifteen minutes, he's going to go off the grid."

Tyrion nodded. "Give him the time. If he goes off grid, pull him out."

"Do you believe that shit!" Mavon came over the com a moment later.

"What have you got?" Tyrion asked.

"I have four morons together who lit a damn fire," Mavon sighed. "What are they thinking? This is a camping trip or something?"

Tyrion grunted. "Prost, pull em."

"On my way, Master Chief," Prost replied from his position down in the valley.

Freya loped quickly through the dense underbrush. She felt at home here, moving through the trees. Her mind drifted back to her younger days, chasing her brother through the forests of Ithilion. She was back in her element, and comfortable.

A sound caught her attention off to her left and she froze, her senses sharpened and focused on on that one errant sound.

It came again, and this time she recognized it. A loud, boisterous laugh. Her head snapped around, facing the sound and she could barely discern the glow of fires through the trees.

The merchant convoy! She grinned slyly. She checked the sky, estimating the time and trying to estimate her position compared to the final destination. She figured she had six hours before daylight. A quick check of her surroundings and she dropped to a crouch, edging towards the dim firelight.

The wagons were circled for the night, with a large bonfire burning in the center. Six figures sat around the fire, eating an evening meal and passing a large jug. Four more men stood at post facing out toward the trees, listening for any sound.

Freya scanned the wagons, her eyes darting back and forth from the vehicles and the two nearest sentries. The men standing watch were listless, their eyes gazing out, but unseeing. She noted the distance of the firelight into the surrounding shadows and realized that the men standing watch were effectively blinded by the firelight behind them. She continued to circle the camp, making note of any additional figures and the size of the cargos on each wagon. Then she paused as the last of the four sentries came into view. He was a lean man, with a long beard and thick dark hair covered by a simple cloth cap. The butt of his spear was propped into the ground and he leaned upon it, his eyes closed.

Freya smiled as an idea began to form.

"Number twenty-nine?" Felix called as he approached the motionless form. "What the hell are you doing?"

The man rolled over, startled and then rubbed his eyes as he got to his feet.

"Nothing, sir," he blurted.

"Were you sleeping?" Felix asked.

The man nodded. "It's too dark to see, sir. I was just resting until the moon rose."

"Uh huh," Felix made notes on his datapad. "You saw the R.O.E. for this op, correct?"

"Yes, sir," the man nodded.

"Come with me," Felix gestured. Then he tapped his com. "Twenty-nine, V.W., failure to follow instructions."

Off in the distance, there came a dull thud, and the two men turned towards the sound to see a momentary flash of yellow light.

"Evening, fellas," Mavon said cheerfully as he stepped into the shower of sparks from the fire. "Let's have those numbers."

"What the hell was that?" Tyrion's voice called over the com.

Mavon tapped his earpiece. "Just breaking up a campfire, Master Chief. Numbers seven, twenty-two, and forty-one, all V.W., failure to follow instructions."

He disconnected the channel and gestured towards the nearest observation post. "This way, fellas. You're done."

All in all, seven more recruits washed out due to some transgression within the confines of the operation.

Silas stood at the observation post that served as the final goal for the exercise, waiting for any successful recruits.

Just as the wolf light before dawn began to grow, men began to emerge from the shadows, approaching as soundlessly as they could.

Silas folded his arms across his chest as he saw Uthir and Illis emerge from the trees.

"Where's your lady friend?" he grinned.

"She left us at the drop zone, sir," Illis replied.

Hoskins leaned against a nearby tree. "Well, she's got about five more minutes before we call this op," he consulted his chrono.

Nearly thirty of the remaining men made it to the extraction point before Hoskins stood away from the tree and drew a flare gun.

Four more men made it into the clearing.

"Damn shame," Hoskins extended his arm and pulled back the trigger.

Just as his finger squeezed, Freya came jogging wearily into view.

"Time!" Hoskins bellowed, and the brilliant yellow flare shot into the heavens.

The remaining recruits could home in on the flare and join with the rest of the squad, however their scores would reflect a failure.

"So," Hoskins said confidently. "Anyone have anything for me?"

The men gazed at one another, but no one spoke.

"The caravan, Drill Sergeant," Freya spoke up, still breathing hard. "I have information for you."

"Oh?" Silas's eyebrows rose.

"Let's hear it, recruit," Hoskins demanded.

Freya paused to take a drink from her canteen. "Twelve men, two women, escorting six wagons. Wagons were loaded full, containing skins, cloth, and other goods bound for Bree. According to one of them, they were meeting at an inn called the Prancing Pony, run by a hobbit named Nob." She smiled. "They were pretty confident that they would be able to get more for their goods than they expected since the original inn keeper, someone named Barlyman, was no longer running things."

All eyes turned on the small girl as she took another drink and wiped moisture from her eyes. "Apparently," she continued after a few deep breaths. "Master Barlyman retired last year, and they think this hobbit, Nob, will be a pushover."

"How did you come by this intel, recruit?" Hoskins demanded.

Freya smiled. "They were pretty well in their cups around the fire during their evening meal, and were talking pretty loudly." she looked about at the faces around her. "They had mutton and potato stew."

Silas snorted.

Hoskins, despite his efforts, could not disguise the surprise from his expression. "Anything else?" he asked.

She stepped forward, unslinging her pack and opening the top flap.

"Just this, Drill Sergeant," she removed a bottle from her pack and offered it to Hoskins. "I believe it is brandy from the Blue Mountains."

Dumbly, Hoskins accepted the bottle and then his expression became suspicious. "How did you get this, recruit?" He demanded. "You were ordered to maintain a zero visibility profile!"

"The sentry on the Northeast corner of their camp was asleep on his feet," she replied, her grin spreading. "Managed some salted bacon as well, but I ate most of that on the way up here."

There were subdued chuckles and a few snorts of laughter from the assembly. Silas looked around and along with the levity there was something else in the gazes of the men present, a uniform respect for the young woman.

Hoskins held the bottle and shrugged, a smile threatening. "Very well, recruit. Fall in."

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," Freya grinned proudly and stepped over to receive congratulations from the other recruits.

Silas stepped over to Hoskins and took the bottle for a closer inspection. "I think we need to review our selection process," he offered.

"No shit!" Hoskins growled.

When the two ships returned to Rivendell that morning, the men and women on the ships were quite different from the recruits that had entered the program. They were bone weary, covered in muck, grime, and sweat, but the smiles, jokes, and shared adventures were exchanged with open enthusiasm. They emerged from this final test as a cohesive unit, no longer the individuals that had entered the program.

"Alright kids," Hoskin announced when they had all fallen into ranks in the parade grounds. "Get cleaned up and grab some sack time! Good job! Report back here tomorrow at oh five hundred! Dismissed!"

Freya stepped out of the shower hut, toweling off her hair and still smiling when Hoskins voice cut through her thoughts.

"Sneak!" he shouted. "Report to the Master Chief, pronto!"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant," she replied automatically and ran to the barracks.

She entered Tyrions office, saluted and stood before the desk, dressed in a clean uniform, her hands clasped at the small of her back.

Tyrion remained seated, returning the salute with much less formality and looking the young woman up and down.

"One of the things you are now permitted to understand," Tyrion began slowly. "Is that the exercises we prepare are designed with the expectation of failure." He looked at her coldly. "In my thirty years of service, I have never seen someone go out of their way to succeed like you have. No training, no backup, with an entire unit after their ass. Congratulations."

"Thank you Master Chief," Freya answered evenly.

"To that end, I want something made clear," Tyrion continued. He reached down and set the stolen bottle of brandy on the desk. "I do not condone thievery or looting, except from the enemy, or in dire circumstances, do I make myself perfectly crystal clear, recruit?"

Some of her pride melted away, and she swallowed nervously. "Yes, Master Chief."

"Good," Tyrion nodded, rising from his seat. He stepped over to the nearby window and stared out at the carpet of trees blanketing the valley. "Because if I ever hear of you pulling something like this again, without specific orders, I will bust your ass out of here faster than you can spit."

His stern expression faded somewhat as he turned back and pushed the bottle across the desk towards her.

"Take this, recruit," Tyrion offered. "Share it with your squad."

"My squad, Master Chief?" Freya frowned, confused.

"Well, you can't very well take it back, can you?" Tyrion shot back.

"No, Master Chief," Freya admitted. Dawning appeared on her face and she fought to keep a smile from her face.

"Then carry on, recruit," Tyrion reseated himself. "Dismissed."

"Yes, Master Chief," Freya collected the bottle and turned to exit.

"Hey, Sneak," Hoskins said quickly.

She stopped at the door and looked up at him.

Hoskins smiled. "Nice work."

Something almost childlike emerged in her smile and she nodded and exited.

Tyrion fixed Hoskins with a stern stare. "Don't encourage her."

Hoskins smile vanished. "Absolutely not, Master Chief," he replied evenly.

The two men held each other's gaze for a moment, before both of them began to grin.

"Get the hell out of my office," Tyrion grinned.

Hoskins nodded and departed.

"So," Uthir slurred as he passed the bottle back to Freya. "Let me get this straight. You slipped in beneath a sleeping guard," he stopped as he lost his train of thought.

Freya grinned drunkenly. The brandy was smooth and potent, the campfire they were sharing was warm and filled the air with a woody scent, and the entire world fuzzed around the edges as she felt the warmth of the liquor course through her body.

"Right under their noses," Illis finished before taking a pull at the bottle.

Freya shrugged, looking back and forth between the two men. Then she giggled, nodded. "Yep."

"And for that, you'll be a squad leader?" Uthir went on. "I guess we know one person who's going to graduate from the program."

"That's what the bastard gets for sleeping on duty, then," Illis added drunkenly.

"He just looked so cute, standing there, snoring," Freya said. "I couldn't bear to wake him." The trio burst out in a fit of laughter.

"You," Illis said, handing the bottle back to her. "Are a beautiful woman, you know that?"

Freya took a long drink and then sat up proudly. "That's what my mother always said."

Another fit of laughter.

"But your father called you a Sneak," Uthir accepted the bottle.

"No, no," Freya corrected him. "That was the Master Sergeant."

"I like it!" Illis said formally. "By virtue of the power, granted me by," he paused as he took the bottle and drank, then chuckled, "Excessive inebriation. I do hereby pronounce you, Freya of Minas Tirith, our Lady of Sneak."

"I like the sound of that," Freya grinned. "Very noble."

"Bullshit!" Uthir said suddenly.

The two looked at him in surprise.

"Well," Uthir offered, a grin breaking. "That's what Sergeant Hoskins would say."

The three of them fell into another fit of laughter.

Uthir sat back up and did his best to imitate the drill sergeant. "As of this moment, any privilege you inherited from between your momma's legs is gone, am I clear?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" Illis and Freya barked, and then they all burst out laughing again.

A shadow fell across the three of them and they looked up to see Xena standing before them, looking down with a amused expression.

"Good evening, my lady," Uthir blurted.

"That must be some good stuff," Xena indicated the bottle in Uthir's hand.

Illis offered a nod. "It serves, lady. It serves very well."

"Very, very well, indeed," Uthir finished, passing the bottle back to Freya.

"Would you like some?" Freya offered, taking a drink and passing it back to Illis.

Xena smiled. "Don't mind if I do."

She seated herself across the fire from Freya and accepted the bottle from Illis, after he took yet another drink.

The brandy was strong, and the fire burned Xena's throat as she took a drink. She nodded appreciatively and passed the bottle to Uthir, wincing.

"So," she asked, looked across at Freya. "What did you want to ask me about?"

Freya blinked, suddenly unsure if she had asked to speak with the Warrior Princess, then the memory clicked.

"Oh," she accepted the bottle and passed it to Illis without drinking. "I need your help."

Xena looked at the three drunken recruits and smiled. "You may."

"I don't know how to use a sword," Freya blurted suddenly. Uthir and Illis looked at her in surprise.

She shrugged, embarrassed. "I was hoping you could teach me?"

Xena studied Freya for a long moment. "I'm going to be teaching all of you."

"I know," Freya nodded. "But everyone else has already had some training." She indicated her two companions. "I need to catch up."

Xena smiled and rose. "I'm sure you'll do just fine."

"Please!" Freya blurted almost desperately.

Xena frowned, looking down at the young girl.

"What are you trying to prove, Freya?" she asked.

"I just," Freya's expression sobered, and she looked between her two companions.

"Freya," Xena crouched down. "You've already shown that you can do this. You've made your point."

"I just," Freya began again and paused. "I want to be the best warrior I can be."

"For your family?" Xena asked.

"For me!" Freya shot back, a little hotly. She took a deep breath, trying to frame her words through the haze.

"Freya," Xena said gently. "Part of being a great warrior is knowing when and, more importantly, when not to push. You've done more than anyone here thought you could." She indicated the supportive expressions on Uthir and Illis's faces. "You've earned the respect of every man here, and gained friends. Enjoy it for a while. There'll be plenty of time for the rest, I promise."

Freya looked up at Illis and he saw the anxiety that bordered on despair.

"She speaks the truth," he agreed.

"True," Uthir replied, raising the bottle and taking another drink. "Know that we are with you, my Lady Sneak," he grinned.

"Indeed," Illis agreed. He nodded toward Xena. "She speaks wisdom, Freya. Listen to her."

Freya looked down and smiled. "Illis. A rabbit could speak wisdom to you in your current state."

"Thanks a lot," Xena jabbed, smiling.

"Very true," Illis agreed. "So, if I can understand the wisdom of the creatures of the wood, then I can certainly appreciate the wisdom of man, or, a woman, as the case may be."

Freya raised an eyebrow, looking at Illis.

"My Lady Sneak," Illis finished, smiling as he raised the bottle.

Xena grinned. "We'll talk more in the morning."

"Indeed we shall!" Uthir agreed, then frowned. "What shall we talk about?"

Illis looked up at Xena and despite his inebriation, Xena saw the serious protectiveness in his expression.

He nodded.

She smiled, "Enjoy your moment, Freya," she offered. "You earned it."

"Yes!" Uthir agreed. "And that's what we shall discuss!" He swayed a little and then fell backward, snoring.

"Not just now, I think," Illis offered, smiling and handing the bottle back to Freya. She looked through the smoky glass and found only a small amount remaining.

"The honor is yours," Illis said. "Since you are the thief who acquired it."

Xena checked to make sure Uthir was breathing, then smiled and nodded. "Have a nice evening, you two."

"Lady," Illis offered.

Freya drained the rest of the brandy, her world swimming. She let the bottle fall to the ground and stared into the flames for a while.

"I don't want to be my mother," Freya said, almost in a whisper.

Illis frowned. "Why would you say that?"

She looked at him, and there was desperation in her eyes now. "She was from Rohan, she used to ride, and hunt, and knew how to fight, and," she paused. "She stopped doing all those things when she came to Gondor and married my father. She just - she sat at home, raised us, and never," she stopped.

"She forsook those pleasures to raise her children," Illis offered. "There is no dishonor there."

"And saw them all wounded, or perish," Freya admitted suddenly afraid. "All that she had done was taken away from her!"

Illis put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Somehow, I don't believe that will be your fate." He smiled. He opened his mouth to say more, but stopped.

"I am with you," he said seriously. "No matter what lays before us. I will be at your side."

"Illis," Freya shrugged his hands off.

"I must do," Illis added quickly. "You shall have need of me, ere long."

She raised an eyebrow.

"How else will you know what lies beyond the taller obstacles without someone of my stature to look over them?" Illis smiled. "After all, you stand only a little taller than a dwarf."

The tension evaporated and Freya's smile emerged again. "Very funny."

"The air was too serious for lack of drink," Illis said.

She stared at the flames, smiling.

"You are tired," Illis surmised. "Return and get some rest."

She looked over at Uthir.

"I shall see to him," Illis continued. "I fear he will not move till morning, however."

Freya rose unsteadily, her hand coming to rest on Illis's shoulder for support. He looked up at her and smiled.

"Sleep well."

She gave his shoulder a pat and then staggered off towards the barracks.

Illis watched her fade into the shadows and sighed. Then he looked over at Uthir and sighed again.

Rising, he stepped over to Uthir and rolled him over, hooking his arms beneath Uthir's armpits and hauling him up.

"Come, my friend," he grunted.

Uthir stirred and opened his eyes, bleary.

"Is the celebration ended?" he asked.

"Indeed," Illis replied.

"Did you tell her?" Uthir asked.

"Silence, you drunken fool," Illis replied. "There will be time enough for that. To bed with you."

"I can manage," Uthir tried to extricate himself, and then fell forward into Illis's steadying grasp. "Perhaps not."

"Definitely not," Illis grinned, hooking his companions arm around his own neck. "Come."

The training continued the next morning, with the remaining members of the new combat unit being split into ten, five man teams. In addition to the general training, which included continued conditioning, as well as combat and tactics specific to small group engagements, two members or each unit were trained as both sniper and spotter, and a third was trained in demolitions, with the remaining two receiving augmented training in support and survival. The result was a cohesive unit that could tackle a wide variety of mission parameters.

Freya was assigned as leader of her training team, and she quickly asserted that control, motivating the four men under her command with the same drive and efficacy as their trainers.

The days passed, filled with drills, maneuvers, intensive study in tactics, weapons, explosives, camoflague, and a host of other skills vital to their overall missions.

Each morning, they would muster in the parade grounds to receive their daily assignments, resume their training, return to their bunks that night for a few hours sleep, and then do it all again the following morning.

Finally, the morning came where the members of Tyrion's team all stood in line in the parade grounds for morning muster. The remaining sixty recruits stood to attention, waiting for the daily assignment, but Tyrion simply stepped forward. He looked at the recruits and gave a nod of approval.

"Stand at ease," he ordered.

The entire unit relaxed their posture and clasped their hands at the small of their backs.

"Congratulations everyone," he added, accepting a data pad from Nicolla and reviewing the data.

"Your training has officially concluded," he went on. "And you have all impressed the hell out of me and my people."

He raised his gaze and let it wander across the expectant faces. "However, only fifty of you will be selected for this unit. Which means that ten of you will be shipping out, and returning to your respective armies in a few days."

There were some nervous glances in the formation.

Tyrion turned back to Nicolla, who produced a rolled parchment and handed it to the Master Chief.

"What I have here is an announcement from the King," he read aloud. "While he understands that the amount of equipment available to us limits our ability to incorporate more individuals in this unit. It does not restrict him from adding to existing units."

He unrolled the parchment and scanned it quickly before he took a deep breath and read in a loud, clear voice.

"By virtue of this noble declaration, the Kingdom of Gondor and Arnor recognize these here named as being the highest among the warriors of Ancient Gondolin, and as such, shall be granted special privilege and title as befits their station. By this order, the high King has decreed that each of you now be recognized as the heirs to the protectosr of the ancient kingdom of Gondolin, and carry the noble title of Dunedain. By acceptance of title, they are hereby sworn to the protection and preservation of all things within the realm in times of war and peace. As such, this title shall grant to all, audience to the council and special privilege to confer and advise in all matters towards that honored goal."

Many of the recruits stood rigid, with mouths agape at the recognition being conferred to them. The more educated of the ranks passed on the knowledge to those unfamiliar with the history.

Tyrion stood, waiting for the murmuring to fade. Then he turned and indicated Felix, who stood holding a small wooden box.

He stepped next to Tyrion and opened the box, revealing neatly folded berets and patches. The crest of both bore a shield with the device of the tree of Gondor, embroidered in spun silver.

Tyrion and Felix made their way down each rank, stopping and presenting the beret and shoulder patches to each recruit, and paused Tyrion to shake each recruits hand and offer congratulations.

That task complete, he moved back to the center of the formation, while Felix withdrew back to the line of officers. Then Nicolla stepped forward again and handed Tyrion a small stack of folded parchments.

"Additionally," Tyrion said, holding up the small bundle of folded sheets. "Both the King of Gondor and the King of Rohan have asked that those of you not selected to remain in this unit, be assigned to a different one, as officers in their individual bodyguards. In that capacity, you will be responsible for the training and discipline of the elite guards of your rulers."

He paused for a moment. "It makes our decisions that much more difficult, because not only did we have to determine which of you would stay with this unit, but we were also forced to consider which of you would be best suited to train individuals yourselves and serve in the highest levels of your respective governments. Understand that, with these orders, the position you fill, whether here in this unit, or as members of another, you have triumphed here. When I call your name, please step forward to receive your orders."

The ten names were read out, and the ten men stepped forward, accepted the commissions, and shook Tyrion's hand, before assembling in a line before the assembly.

Of all the men present, it was the selection of Faramir's son, Denethor that drew a few murmurs from the assembly. He had been a noble before, and had railed against the lack of privilege for men like him at the onset of the training.

Now, he stepped smartly forward, saluted, and accepted the orders with a smile.

"You men were selected for two reasons," Tyrion said when the last parchment was delivered.

"First, your ability to look beyond your position and become part of this unit, and second, your ability to pass that knowledge on to others. Congratulations."

He indicated the space next to his own team. "Fall in."

The two new royal detachments stepped smartly over to fall into formation at the end of Tyrion's team.

At the same time, Hoskins and Prost, who also carried small wooden containers, stepped with military precision, to stand at either side of the Master Chief.

Tyrion nodded.

"Carry on, gentlemen."

Tyrion took a half step back, pivoted, and returned to the formation of his officers.

"Sergeant," Hoskins said, and Prost, who also bore another narrower container. The young sergeant remove the lid from this container and turned to follow Hoskins to the first rank of recruits.

The box contained Spec-Force rank and insignia pins for each recruit.

Like Tyrion before, Hoskins went to each individual and personally handed the insignia and shook the hand of each of his recruits. Ten of the recruits, including Freya, received an additional cluster of polished silver that indicated their achievement as squad leader.

Hoskins paused before the diminutive Freya and hesitated for a moment, before handing them to her.

She looked up at him expectantly and her smile began to appear, unbidden.

Hoskins held the rank, insignia, and cluster up before her and gave her a nod.

"You earned the shit out of this, missy," he said, his own smile threatening. "Congratulations."

Freya felt tears prick at her eyes. "Thank you, Drill Sergeant," she said gratefully as she took his hand and shook it.

He finished his circuit and the two sergeants moved back to the center of the formation.

"Alright you backwater bastards!" he shouted. "With these promotions, you are no longer recruits! Welcome to Spec-Force!"

Prost stepped forward two paces, looked about the parade ground.

"Squad leaders! The Master Chief requests your presence in his office at nineteen-thirty hours!"

He let his eyes travel around the gathering. Then he smiled.

"Company!" he shouted. The entire unit snapped to attention. "Grab yourselves a drink and celebrate! Dismissed!"

Cheers erupted from the entire gathering. People broke ranks, turned and accepted hugs, handshakes and backslaps.

Tyrion watched the celebration for a few moments, and smiled.

"Damn, I'm proud of this bunch," he said to no one in particular.


End file.
